


Descent

by Ltleflrt



Series: Peace Begins With A Smile [5]
Category: Dragon Age II
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-05-09
Updated: 2013-03-03
Packaged: 2017-11-05 01:05:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 30,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/400759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ltleflrt/pseuds/Ltleflrt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anders is so ashamed of his loss of control that he can't bring himself to help with the mage underground.  But can he help one young mageling escape her fate?</p><p>Part of the Peace Begins With A Smile universe, but can probably stand alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The water was black and oily looking. Mirror smooth until a group of dirty children ran past then the puddle filled with ripples.  Ava glared after them as she waited for the ripples to fade then she held her hand over the water, palm down. Her face scrunched up in concentration and slowly the dirty liquid bulged upward. A small globe began to coalesce below her hand.  She took a deep breath - held it while she gave a _push_ from inside. With a crackling sound the shifting water froze.  
  
Hesitantly, she lifted her hand away and a smile stretched across her face as her work was revealed. The dirty ice had formed into a flower.  A rose.  She'd seen roses in Hightown when a merchant had given her a copper to deliver a message to one of the big houses at the top of the stone stairs that felt like they went on forever. 

 

Her brother had been a messenger before he fell in with the Coterie and he used to tell her stories about the riches of Hightown but it was so much more wonderful in reality. By far, the most beautiful site was the flowers. More beautiful than the ladies with their clean skin and silky hair and brightly colored dresses that her mother always talked about in awed tones. The flowers were what she wanted to see, to smell, to touch.  
  
Flowers didn't grow in Darktown. There was no sunlight for them here.  
  
Ava was pleased with her creation although it wasn't as pretty as the real thing. It was grey and white instead of yellow or pink or red. She chewed her bottom lip as she started at it. Ice could be very pretty in the right kind of light but she wasn't near the openings in the stone cliffs.  She looked down at her hand.  Scrunching her face up again, Ava _pushed_ until a little ball of flame hovered over her hand.  Fire was harder for her to work with, but her mother had insisted that she keep practicing because it was the most dangerous.  
  
Still concentrating carefully on holding the tiny flame, Ava moved her hand closer to the ice rose.  The red and yellow light reflected through it, giving it color.  Her frown of concentration turned into a delighted smile and she giggled.    
  
“That’s quite lovely.”  
  
Ava yelped in surprise, and the flame winked out.  The ice rose remained as evidence of her guilt though.  Swallowing hard, she slowly looked up.  And up and up.  The man standing over her was very tall.  From where she sat in the dirt, she couldn’t see his face because the shadows of Darktown covered his features like a mask.  A chill of fear ran down her spine and she tensed in preparation for escape.  
  
Before she could jump up and scamper away, the man crouched down before her revealing a face that was handsome and kind, if a bit tired.  His pale brown eyes were warm with a gentle smile.  Pale blonde hair was pulled away from his face, but some had come loose and hung down around his temples.  He wore a long brown coat which had grey feathers at the shoulder that seemed to flutter like wings as he shifted to keep his balance.  The pale shadow of a beard covering his jaw combined with everything else made him look scruffy, but he was very clean.  The lack of dirt was something strange to see in Darktown.  Everyone and everything was filthy in the Undercity.  If it weren’t for the tattered and patched quality of his clothing, she’d think he was a Lord come down from Hightown.  
  
Ava realized she was staring and lowered her eyes quickly.  Her gaze fell on the ice rose and the fear that had faded at the stranger’s smile flared back to life.  She scrambled quickly for something to say, some excuse.  “I… I um… It wasn’t me.  It was already there.  I was just looking at it.”  Even to her own ears the lie was obvious, but she held her breath hopefully and sent a prayer to the Maker that he’d believe her.  
  
“Oh really?” the man asked.  His eyes twinkled with amusement.  “Well I don’t blame you.  It’s very pretty.  Whoever made it is very talented.”  
  
 _He knows_ , she thought nervously.  But he wasn’t screaming for the Templars yet.  Unfortunately that realization didn't stop her stomach from doing slow flips. She swallowed in an effort to make it behave.  
  
The man looked around carefully for a moment.  The group of dirty boys who had run by earlier were long gone, and at the moment there was no one else in the dark alley where Ava and the golden eyed man crouched.  He turned back to her with a smile and held his hand out palm up.  “I like flowers too,” he said.  
  
Ava gasped as flame literally bloomed above his hand in the shape of a rose.  It flickered and wavered for a moment in the random cold breezes that plagued Darktown, but it held its shape.  It looked so real.  She lifted her hand to touch it, but before she could register the heat it swirled around causing her to jerk back in surprise.    
  
When she pulled away the flame changed shape.  Now instead of a rose there was a small cat, cleaning its fiery yellow paw with a tongue of red flame.  Ava giggled and the cat looked up, appearing to meow at her before it leapt up onto the man’s shoulder.  Somehow it managed to not light the feathers on fire as it rubbed its cheek against his affectionately.  She could almost imagine it purring it looked so real.  
  
“How come it’s not burning you?” Ava asked curiously. Seeing him perform magic calmed her nerves. An apostate wouldn't turn her over to the Templars.   _Sometimes mages help them,_ a voice whispered in the back of her mind.  It sounded like her mother, and just like every time she heard the voice, her heart ached.

  
The man scratched the fire cat under the chin, and then with an audible poof it disappeared.  “Years and years of practice,” he said very softly, as if he were worried about being overheard in the empty alley.    
  
“Will you teach me?” Ava asked just as quietly, trying to keep a lid on her excitement.  The voice clamored denials in her head, making it ache.  She rubbed her temple absently with the heel of her hand as she spoke.  “My mother was teaching me, but…” she trailed off. It hurt to think about her.  
  
“Your mother is also a mage?”  
  
Ava stared down at the melting rose she had created.  With a wave of her fingers she filled it with heat and it splashed back into the dirty puddle she’d pulled it from.  “She was,” she whispered. "but now she's Tranquil."  
  
"I'm sorry," he said softly. "Do you know why?"  
  
Ava shrugged and looked up at him through her lashes. He looked sad. He understood, she could tell. Being made Tranquil was every mage's fear. Her mother had lived in fear of the Templars. Ava could still hear see terrified eyes when they came to take her away in her dreams sometimes.  
  
The man sighed and rubbed his face tiredly. He mumbled something under his breath about the Templars that she was sure he didn't mean for her to hear. He looked up at her and gave her a weary smile. "What is your name?" he asked.  
  
"Ava."  
  
"How old are you Ava?"  
  
"I'm almost eight," she answered with a proud tilt of her chin. Her birthday was a month ago. It counted as almost.  
  
The man laughed softly and chucked her under the chin with his knuckles. "So grown up." And she truly felt like it when he said it that way. "Do you know where the clinic is?" he asked.  
  
Ava nodded. Everyone in Darktown knew about the clinic.

  
"Come visit me there and I will give you some lessons.  And in the meantime, no more practicing out in the open. It's dangerous."  
  
Ava nodded excitedly. The man gave her a wide smile and ruffled her hair with his fingers. He stood up, _Way up_ , she thought as she was reminded of how tall he was, and turned to leave.  
  
"Wait!" Ava called to him. "What is your name?" she asked when he turned back with a questioning look.  
  
"I am Anders." He waved and turned away, headed to whatever mysterious destination had brought him past her dingy corner of Darktown.


	2. Chapter 2

When he was a boy in the circle, all Anders ever wanted was to light the library on fire. Mostly because he hated it there but also because he felt like learning to read was a huge waste of time. He didn't understand why they couldn't just show him how to cast spells. What did the history of King Been-Dead-For-Centuries the First have to do with fireballs?  It wasn't until he was older and they started letting him read the grimoires that he began to appreciate it.  

  
His reaction wasn't unusual for a child, especially one from a peasant background. So when he'd told Ava he was going to teach her to read, he'd expected some resistance. What he got was a child sized bouncing ball of excitement. She was willing to take any lessons he gave her, even if they weren't related to magic. She had been visiting him daily for a few weeks now, and she could already write the alphabet and her name without assistance.

  
She was bright, and soaked up everything he told her like a sponge. In some ways she reminded him off a mini version of Hawke. Unlike the dark haired, whiskey-eyed Champion her hair was red, her eyes a dark blue, and she was pale from lack of sunlight, but she was always smiling and constantly curious. Having her read while he was busy with patients was actually a stroke of genius. It kept her out of trouble and he didn't feel guilty that he couldn't spare more time for her. Offering to teach her magic had been a spontaneous decision and he hadn't considered where he'd find the time to do it.

  
He glanced at her now as he bandaged up a badly burned arm. Her face was puckered with concentration and her lips moved silently as she read the book of children's tales he'd given to her to practice with while he was busy with his patients.

  
He smiled when he remembered the look Hawke had given him when he'd asked the other mage if he could search his library for children's books.

  
One black brow had shot up to hide behind the shaggy hair that continually fell into his eyes. "Don't you usually prefer dusty old spell books and histories in foreign languages?" He asked.  He grinned suddenly and leaned forward conspiratorially.  “If you want something entertaining to read, you should check out Isabela’s latest friend fiction.  Just don’t let Aveline catch you reading it.”

  
"It isn't for me," Anders replied with a slight smile of amusement.

  
Hawke stood straight again and folded his arms over his chest. “Oookay,” he said.  He waited impatiently for Anders to tell him more.  “Well?” he finally prompted.

  
Anders rolled his eyes and mirrored Hawke’s stance.  “It doesn’t matter.  Do you have any I can borrow?”  He didn’t know why he felt the need to hide his new student from Hawke.  It wasn’t like the other mage would be jealous of the time he spent giving Ava lessons.  Hawke still came around for his own lessons now and then, but with everyone in the city and their sister wanting his attention, he rarely had time anymore.

  
Hawke had stared at him hard with those whiskey brown eyes for almost a full minute, but when it became clear that Anders wouldn’t say anything further he sighed and let it go.  He’d walked straight to a shelf full of primers and children’s tales.  The fact that he knew right where they were made Anders suspect that Fenris used them for his reading lessons, and he was disappointed the elf wasn’t around to be teased about it.  

  
Anders shook his head to clear it of the memory and focused on his patient. As much as he rebelled against the idea, Justice was right about his obsession with Hawke. The other mage was in love with someone else. Anders needed something, someone, to distract him from the pain of loving a man who could never return his feelings. Ava could prove to be just what he needed to bring him back from the edge of the madness that had been threatening him ever since he'd almost killed that young mage they had rescued from Alrik.

  
After giving the burn victim's wife a pot of salve and instructions on how to prevent infection, Anders looked around and was shocked to realize there were no more patients waiting. It was such a rare occurrence that he had to go outside to make sure the lantern was still lit to indicate his presence. He decided to take advantage of the lull and take the rest of the day off. Ava never stayed past early evening and he had been too busy to give her any in depth lessons for a few days.

  
Anders blew out the lantern and closed the clinic doors. He gathered several candles for the lesson. It was still late enough in the day that he'd only have a little over an hour before Ava would leave so he'd clean up later after she'd left.

  
Ava looked up in surprise when he set the candles on the table before her. She tended to become completely oblivious to the world when she concentrated. Part of him was jealous of the innocence that allowed her to trust her surroundings. He'd gotten over that childish trait quickly in the circle. Templars could be cruel even to children, and it was not safe to lose track of who was in the room in the tower in Ferelden.

  
Justice stirred angrily at the thought and Anders quickly steered his thoughts in other directions. The spirit had been mostly quiet since he'd offered to give Ava lessons. Apparently keeping her away from templars was enough to appease him for now. He'd been getting upset with Anders' inaction over the last few years, and the mage had been starting to experience blank spots in his memory. He prayed it was a side affect of the taint, but he knew the truth deep down. He was losing control.

  
Ava watched him silently as he set the candles up in a smal circle on the table. Her blue eyes were bright with curiosity. "You already taught me how to light a candle," she said.   
"I remember," Anders replied with an amused smile. "But you struggle with fire so we need to focus on your control."

  
Ava nodded solemnly making Anders' smile widen. She was a very easy student unlike himself. His poor teachers would be livid that he had it so easy with Ava after what he'd put them through.

  
Once he was finished setting up the candles he held his hands out palm up over the table to either side of the candles. Ava placed her hands palm down over his, not quite touching.  Her eyes were wide and curious. Anders winked at her and she giggled. He sent a tendril of flame into the candle wicks. "Put them out."  

  
Ava's nose wrinkled a she concentrated, and he suppressed a chuckle so he wouldn't distract her. The flames went out all at once and he smiled proudly at her. "Very good. Now try this."

  
This time he lit one candle and with a thought sent the flame from one candle to the next, putting out the previous one as each candle lit. He sent the flame around the wicks in a circle several times to give her time to "see" how he did it.

  
Ava had followed the spell closely. Very carefully she concentrated. He could feel the flow of power as she directed it at the candle wicks. They all flamed up brightly then went right back out.  "Blight loving bitches!"

  
Anders laughed out loud at her frustrated curse. "I'd ask where you heard such language, but you do live in Darktown."

  
Ava blushed but didn't apologize. "I hate fire," she mumbled. "It's slippery and I can't hold it." She pulled her hands away and put them in her lap.

  
"Ice is slippery but you do just fine with it," Anders reminded her.

  
Ava rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean."

  
Anders folded his arms and leaned them on the table. "I do. I had a similar problem when I was a boy."

  
"With fire?"

  
"Healing actually."

  
Ava gave a snort of disbelief. She looked around the clinic, then back at him. One red brow was raised skeptically.

  
 _So like Hawke._ Anders laughed out loud at her expression. "It took a lot of practice." His eyes unfocused as he remembered. "I was awful. The teacher was going to have me removed from the class, which I didn't mind. The man bored me to tears. It wasn't until my friend Karl started ribbing me about my lack of skill that I truly took an interest in healing. I used to practice on every little paper cut, scratch and bruise I received." He paused and swallowed against the painful memory of the lashing he'd received for getting caught casting outside of the classroom.

  
He'd been burning himself with a candle flame over and over all night to have something to practice on where no one could see, until he could do it with a quick thought. Unfortunately his bunk mate had squealed on him and the Templars had been quick to act.

  
Karl had been sent to take care of him after his punishment. Anders had healed his own bruises with a flick of his wrist before the older student could do it for him. Karl had smiled warmly. _Only you could turn rebellion into something positive, Anders._

  
He quickly became first in his class and healing became the only thing about the circle besides his friendship with Karl that he enjoyed.

  
He didnt tell her that story though.  Her mother was in the Circle and he didn’t want to make her worry any more than she already did.

  
Anders gestured around him at the clinic. "As you can see, I'm now an expert. If you want it enough, it'll happen," he said to Ava with a fond smile.

  
 _Your heart screams for equal mage rights, yet the mages still languish in their prison, suffering the Templars' abuses,_ Justice grumbled. _You mislead the child._

  
 _It's too much,_ Anders thought. _I can't do it on my own._

  
_We can do it together if you will cease being a coward._

  
_Oh really? And who was it that nearly murdered one of those mages in a fit of rage?  After rescuing her from Templars! We are not always stronger together._

  
Shame twisted painfully around his heart, and it wasn't only from Justice. If it weren't for Hawke, Anders wouldn't have found the strength to resist the angry spirit.

  
Ava, unaware of Anders' internal argument, nodded sharply and put her hands palm down over the table again. "I can do it."

  
Anders' smile widened into a proud grin and he held his hands out palm up under hers. "Of course you can."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is a bit weird for me, writing one story from multiple points of view. Yay for stretching boundaries, right? :)


	3. Chapter 3

The candles were burnt down almost completely before Ava succeeded.  The fire tried to slip out of her control, but she held it and she moved it.  She wasn't as fast or as accurate as Anders, but she made the stubborn little flame go around in a circle twice before it slipped away from her and went out.

  
"I did it!" she squealed excitedly. 

  
Anders clapped his hands proudly.  "I knew you could."

  
Ava flushed bright red at the praise.  The spell was difficult, and she’d tried to give up in frustration several times, but the sense of accomplishment gave her a warm feeling.   It reminded her a little of the times she spent practicing with her mother.  Her powers had manifested only a few months before her mother was taken away, so they hadn’t been able to practice a lot.  Thinking about it made her heart sink a little, but for once she didn’t feel overwhelmed with sadness.

  
Anders leaned back and stretched his arms above his head.  She heard the soft popping sound as his spine realigned.  "Well Ava, I think that counts as a successful lesson.  How about some dinner before you go home?  You must be hungry after all that casting.”

  
Ava's stomach growled at the mention of food causing her to look down at her belly in surprise.  She was starving.  Her head shot up and her eyes widened in horror.  "What time is it?"  She asked urgently.

  
Anders' eyebrows went up in surprise at the urgency in her voice.  "A few bells past sundown probably."

  
Ava felt like her heart was going to jump right out of her chest.  "Oh no.  No, no, no."  She jumped up from the table.  "I've got to get home."  She rushed past Anders, barely avoiding his outstretched hand when he tried to stop her.  She felt bad about the worry in his eyes but she didn't have time to explain.

  
Her bare feet pounded against the packed dirt, and splashed through puddles of muddy water as she rushed towards the shack she lived in with her uncle.  For once she hoped he would be late coming home.  She would still be expected to have dinner ready for him, but it didn't have to be anything more than sliced bread with toasted cheese.  As long as it was ready before he was home, Uncle didn't care what she did during the day.  He wouldn’t be happy if he found out though. 

  
She was halfway home when a beefy arm came out of the darkness and wrapped around her waist.  A yelp of surprise escaped her as she was yanked up against a man’s hard chest, knocking the breath out of her momentarily.  She struggled vainly against the arms that held her only to have them squeeze tighter.  She immediately stopped struggling and concentrated on getting air into her constricted lungs.  Unfortunately, the man didn’t loosen his grip.

  
"Oi!  We've got ourselves a lively one here!"

  
Hard fingers gripped her chin and tilted her face back and forth.  Fear caused her heart to pound wildly as she stared at the man in front of her.  The first thing she noticed was his teeth.  They were black and rotted, and the rest of him was just as unpleasant.  His face was pockmarked, with small eyes sunk deep under a single eyebrow.  He was grinning at her but something about his smile, besides his teeth, made her shiver.  "Pretty little thing too.  Look at them blue eyes."

  
"Scrawny though," the man holding her said.  "Just a kid I think."

  
Pitface leered at her and his breath was so foul that she nearly choked.  "That don't bother me none."

  
Chills ran through Ava at his tone.  She didn't fully understand what they wanted from her, but she'd seen men look at women that way before.  Usually the women didn't appear to want the attention, either.  Her brother had warned her those men were dangerous and would hurt her badly if they caught her alone. 

  
 _There is no need to be afraid. You have power,_ a voice whispered in her mind.  She almost couldn't hear it over the roaring in her ears.  It sounded strange, as if one mouth spoke with more than one voice.  She felt the magic surge up inside her but it was weak.  She’d used up most of her mana practicing, and she was exhausted.  She tried to pull the power into a shape anyway, but her mind was blank from fear and she couldn’t remember the patterns she had to push the magic into.

  
 _I can't!_  She thought _._   Her shallow breaths started coming quicker, and she began to feel light headed.  Her brother’s warning kept running through her mind.  “Hurt badly” was vague, and not knowing what they would do to her was making the fear worse.

  
 _I will help you._  The voice wavered strangely. It almost sounded like her mother, but it also sounded like her father, and for a second she thought it sounded like Anders.  Mostly it sounded familiar, like the warning voices she sometimes heard.    

  
_Who are you?_

  
_I am a friend,_ it whispered back.   _I don't want you to get hurt.  Let me help you._

  
Pitface let go of her face and turned away. He beckoned to the man holding her.  "Let's take her somewhere more private."

  
Ava began to struggle again, but when she tried to scream the man holding her clamped a hand over her mouth.  She started to whimper when she saw the dark corner they were taking her to.  There were many of them in Darktown, and they all should be avoided.

  
_Bite him!_

  
Ava was too panicked to think about it.  She opened her mouth and bit down until she tasted blood.  A flood of power rushed through her veins, making her gasp.  The man let out a pained yell and whipped his hand away from her mouth.  Foul tasting words she didn’t understand spilled from her lips, making them tingle strangely.  The flow of power was directed by the words she'd spoken, but it was still overwhelming.  It was like nothing she had ever done or experienced before.  The voice whispered encouragement in her mind, but she felt overloaded.

 

_Too much too much too much too much!_

  
A red glow filled her vision and screams filled her ears.  She thought it might have been her own screams but she wasn't sure.  Just before she lost consciousness there was a blue flash and an angry shout from a familiar voice.  Red faded to black.  Screams faded into silence.

  
Ava woke up slowly.  Her head was pounding and the voice calling her name irritated her senses but it sounded familiar.  She opened her eyes to see Anders’s golden eyes, just a few inches from her face.  Slowly it registered that he was cradling her in his arms.  He radiated warmth, and it felt good as it seeped into her aching skin.  The healer’s face was lined with worry which only faded slightly when she blinked at him and whispered his name questioningly.  Her throat felt raw and scratchy and her voice was hoarse.

  
"Thank the Maker you're alright," he said on a sigh.  His voice was shaking and he looked more tired than usual.

  
Ava blinked again slowly and started to turn her head to see where she was.  "What-?"

  
Anders put a gentle hand against her cheek preventing her from looking around.  "Do you remember anything?"

  
Ava felt a warm tingle flow from his fingers into her skin.  The gentle healing spell cleared her mind and the memory of the attack came back in a rush.  Her eyes widened and she tried to look around again.  "Those men were going to hurt me and I tried to stop them, but I couldn’t cast, and then I- it tasted funny- and everything was red and I was hot and-"

  
"Shh," Anders said soothingly.  He stroked her cheek gently. "I understand.  I came around the corner just as...”  He stopped and took a deep breath.  His arms tightened around her and hugged her close, but instead of being scary like the other man who’d held her, it was comforting. "I'm so glad you're safe," he said against her temple. 

  
Ava buried her head under his chin and accepted the comfort he offered her.

  
After a moment Anders stood, still cradling her in his arms. "Let's get you home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, see I warned y'all the updates would be slow on this one.


	4. Chapter 4

Anders sat in stunned silence for a moment.  Ava always insisted on being home before dark, but they had lost track of time.  The panicked look on her face when she learned how late it had gotten gave him pause.  He knew she stayed with her uncle now that her parents were gone. Was she afraid of him?  She didn't speak of him very often, although she didn't really chatter his ear off about any of them, really.  
  
The clinic door hadn't shut fully behind Ava.  Anders walked over to close it but he frowned as he looked out.  The streets of Darktown were no place for a child alone.  He grabbed his staff and rushed outside.  He locked it behind him and turned to find his young student.  That's when it occurred to him he didn't actually know where she lived.  Guilt washed through him.  He should have been walking her home all along.  Some mentor he was turning out to be.  
  
"Andraste's flaming-" he bit off the curse in frustration.  Picking a direction that he vaguely remembered seeing her take once, he began walking quickly.   
  
_Why are you worried?_  Justice asked curiously.   _She has power.  She can protect herself._  
  
"She is a little girl," Anders muttered.   
  
_Yes, she is small.  Why is this significant?_  
  
Anders rolled his eyes at the spirit.  He had tried more than once to explain the concept of children to Justice.  Even having access to Anders' memories didn't help him fully understand.  Spirits just came into being fully formed and aware.  "She doesn't have enough control," he answered.  He noticed a drunk walking slowly in the opposite direction give him a strange look and a wider berth, probably for talking to himself out loud.   _She could hurt herself,_ he thought as he passed the man.   _And she's probably low on mana.  She worked hard today._  
  
A yelp caught his attention.  He came to a stop and listened carefully.  The sound came from the opposite direction from the one he had taken.  It could be anyone.  Did he dare turn back and risk losing Ava's trail?  He stood in indecision for only a few seconds before he made up his mind and broke into a run towards the other end of the alley.  As he neared the place where the sound had come from he heard voices.  
  
"Oi we've got ourselves a lively one here!"  
  
"Scrawny though.  Just a kid I think."  
  
"That don't bother me none.  Let's take her somewhere more private."  
  
Anders came to a skidding stop as he rounded the corner.  The scene before him turned the blood in his veins to ice.  Ava was struggling against the grip of one dirty thug while another led him toward a shadowed alcove.   
  
Justice surged towards the surface of his mind in rage when he realized what the men had planned for Ava.   _No!  She is unwilling!_  
  
Anders staggered slightly.  His free hand came up to press against his temple.  The last time Justice had taken control in anger he'd nearly murdered an innocent girl.  He couldn't let that happen to Ava.  
  
 _We must stop this!_  
  
 _We will!  Just calm down.  Please!_  Justice subsided only slightly but it was enough for Anders to resume control of his body.  He lifted his staff to start casting a spell when the man holding Ava cried out and jerked his hand away from her mouth.  The blood on his hand glittered in the light of a nearby torch.  
  
"No, Ava. Don't," Anders breathed.  He couldn't breath in enough to power the scream in his mind.  Words that burned his ears tumbled from Ava's lips.  Dread froze him in place as he watched the man holding her began to convulse.  
  
The other man pulled a knife.  "Blood mage!" He snarled.   
  
Anders snapped out of his daze.  "No!" He shouted angrily.  In an instant Justice's power boiled up through Anders' skin causing it to split open.  Blue fire poured from the cracks, illuminating the alleyway.  For once he couldn't bring himself to resist because his rage was equal to the spirit's.  "I will show you why mages are feared!"  He swung his staff to channel the magic overflowing from him and a blue fireball coalesced and shot from the crystal at its crown to engulf the man holding the knife.  
  
Ava had stopped casting and was screaming.  The man holding her was bleeding from the mouth, eyes and ears, but he somehow still held her tightly.  Anders couldn't attack without also hurting her.  Justice seethed against his hesitation but before it became a struggle between them the man collapsed.  Ava's screams were cut off as he fell on top of her.  
  
Anders rushed forward, heart pounding with alarm.  He grabbed Ava's attacker and with Justice’s strength in his limbs, flung him away like a ragdoll.  The body twitched a few times before going completely still.  Justice wanted to tear him into pieces but Anders was too frantic about Ava for the spirit to wrest away his control.  He pulled her into his arms and quickly checked her for injuries and breathed a sigh of relief when he found none.  He pulled a rag he used as handkerchief from his pocket and cleaned the blood from her mouth and chin.  
  
"Oh Ava," he said softly.  "I'm so sorry I wasn't here for you."  
  
“Apostate!”  
  
Anders looked up in surprise at the half frightened, half angry shout.  The drunk he’d seen earlier was standing nearby staring at the scene in disbelief and fear.  He couldn’t have been there long.  Most people ran in fear when they saw fighting of any kind in Darktown.  The corpse of the man Anders had killed still burned, and the air smelled of roasting meat.  Even if the man had just come around the corner, it would be obvious that magic had been involved in the fight.  

 

He lifted a hand engulfed in blue fire.  “That’s right,” he said threateningly.  Justice was near the surface and he suspected there may have been a blue glow in his eyes as well.  “Now walk away and forget what you saw here tonight.”  
  
The terrified man turned and stumbled away as quickly as he could.  Anders closed his fingers into a fist and the flame went out with a soft _whoomf_.  Turning back to Ava, he put the drunk out of his mind.  He didn’t have time right now to worry about a witness who probably wouldn’t remember much through his hangover in the morning.  He had to make sure Ava was all right.  
  
Waking her was difficult.  She was completely drained.  The spell she'd cast was stronger than someone so young and inexperienced should be able to handle even with blood magic powering it.  A lyrium potion would help her, but he didn’t have any with him.  He considered taking her back to the clinic but he didn't want her uncle to worry about her so he decided to take her home.  He could always bring the lyrium to her once she was safe.  Ava kept falling asleep, and when she was awake she would start babbling about what happened.  In between the spill of words and the lethargy, he managed to get directions to the shack she called home.  
  
Anders shifted Ava to one arm, with her head on his shoulder.  He smiled slightly when she wrapped her arms around his neck. With his free hand he knocked on the thin wood of the door.  When no one answered after a few more knocks he opened it and ducked his head through the low frame.  
  
The interior of the shack was tiny, with just enough room for a pallet on one end, a single chair and table on the other, and a hearth on the back wall.  Despite it’s run down appearance it was spotless, and he suspected that was Ava’s work.  There was no sign of her uncle.   
  
Anders sighed.  He couldn’t leave her here by herself.  He turned and made his way back to his clinic.  It was probably for the best.  He could feel her trembling and her breathing was shallow.  She needed his care right now.  By the time he got back, his arms were sore from carrying her.  She seemed small, but despite the muscles he’d built up fighting with Hawke, Anders was still winded.  
  
He carried Ava to the pallet he kept for himself in the back room and laid her down gently.  He’d been pouring a steady stream of magic into her, but she was still very pale.  Her eyelids were fluttering and her lips moving silently.    
  
 _The veil is thin around her,_ Justice advised him. _Demons will be attracted to her, and she is weakened.  She needs strength._  
  
Anders jumped up and moved to the cabinet where he kept his potions, and opened a secret compartment in the back.  He had to keep the lyrium hidden since it was only useful to Templars and mages and the last thing he needed was a thief finding it.  He’d been lucky enough to not get robbed since the people of Kirkwall appreciated his healing skills so much, but it was better safe than sorry.    
  
Once he had a vial of the silvery liquid he moved back to Ava’s side and gently coaxed her to drink it.  She opened her eyes slightly as she swallowed the potion, and her pupils were so dilated that he could barely see a thin line of blue around them.  A shiver ran down his spine as he remembered the incantation she’d been speaking when he found her.  She seemed so small and vulnerable, but she had channelled an incredible amount of power.    
  
Some of her color came back after swallowing the potion and her sleep seemed to be more restful.  Anders brushed her hair away from her face as he prayed silently to the Maker that she wasn’t currently being stalked by a demon in her dreams.  It was a real possibility since she’d just cast a Hemorrhage spell.  
  
It was conceivable  that her mother had taught her the spell before she was taken by Templars.  Using blood magic could be the reason they’d made her Tranquil.  Otherwise, the only way she could have learned that spell would be directly from a demon.  Either option was abhorrent to him, but especially the thought of her learning the spell from her mother.  Every mage child faced demons, but for a parent to deliberately put their child on the path of blood magic?  The thought was unbearable.  
  
Still kneeling next to the pallet, watching Ava sleep, he tried to imagine having children of his own.  Would they have magic too?  Hawke had told him stories about his childhood.  Of his father giving him and his sister lessons near the hearth in the evenings while Leandra worked on mending and Carver played with his wooden sword.  It seemed so idyllic if you ignored the constant fear of Templars, and the need to relocate every few years.    
  
If he had been given a chance to have a normal family, he would have loved to teach his children magic.  And if they weren’t mages, he’d be happy to teach them to read and write, or make potions for his clinic.  Healing didn’t always require magic.    
  
It was a lovely fantasy.  He dreamt about it sometimes.  Usually his dreams turned to nightmares and Templars invaded his home, taking his children away, locking him back up in solitary confinement.  They would keep him separated from his children for the rest of their lives.  In Kirkwall, they might even execute his wife for harboring mages.  
  
Justice stirred angrily.   _Wrong, wrong, it is wrong, we must stop this injustice... they must pay.  Death would not be enough, they must suffer..._  
  
Anders closed his eyes and fought against the rage that filled him.  It took longer than usual to calm himself, probably because he now pictured himself having a red headed, blue eyed daughter.  He’d become incredibly fond of Ava in the few weeks he’d known her.  Once the spirit settled down and his heart rate slowed, he opened his eyes and looked down at the child curled up under his thin blanket.  He leaned down and brushed his lips against her clammy forehead.  When she woke he’d talk to her about what happened, teach her techniques to resist demons, and warn her of the dangers of Blood Magic.    
  
“I will protect you,” he whispered against her hair.  “I promise.”


	5. Chapter 5

The Gallows courtyard was even more grim in the dark.  During the day the bronze statues gave off a pretty sheen in the sunlight.  Sort of.  If you squinted and didn't look directly at them, you could almost pretend they were not completely repulsive.  At night the shadows revealed their truly hideous nature.  The cool breeze coming off the harbor didn’t help.  It weezed through the crenellations and sounded like tortured moans in the silence left when the commons were empty.  Combined with the soft crash of waves against the stones supporting the Gallows, it was an altogether eerie chorus of sound to go along with the surrounding architecture.  It slipped under his armor like icy fingers, raising goosebumps over his skin, and he imagined it was the touch of the dead slaves haunting the old prison.   
  
Even after several years under the perpetually tortured gazes of the bronze statues, they made Carver uneasy.  Wondering for the umpteenth time why no one tore the ugly things down, he eyed the closest statue irritably as he stifled a yawn and attempted to ignore the cold seeping into his armor.   
  
"I really hate night guard duty," he grumbled through his fist.    
  
Keran glared at him through his own answering yawn.  "Then why did you volunteer for it?"   
  
Because it's easier to face the creepy statues than the creepy Tranquil.  "Just paying back a favor," he said out loud.  He had to agree to take three nights of Moira's night guard duty in order for her to cover for his absence when he snuck off for his brother’s nameday celebration several months ago.  After tonight they would be even.    
  
Moira thought she had gotten the best of the deal, but he would have agreed to a lot more than three nights in exchange for that one.  He closed his eyes and let the memory of cheerful forest green eyes fill his mind.  Of pale skin under the swirling lines of vallaslin, and short hair almost as dark as his own tied in knots and braids tucked behind delicately pointed ears.  He loved those ears.  They twitched when she was nervous, drooped when she was upset, flushed pink when he touched her.   
  
Keran picked up a stone and threw it at Carver, who jumped at the clang when it bounced off his breastplate.  "Fantasizing about your sweetheart again?“ he teased.   
  
Carver glared at the other Templar irritably.  "I don't have a sweetheart," he said sourly.  He turned to stare out across the harbor towards the city.  He squinted in an effort to see the upper branches of the Vhenadahl.  He could see it during the day, but in the dark he could only look in it's general direction.  "I was just resting my eyes," he added.   
  
Keran didn't look convinced.  "Uh huh."  He grinned at the glare Carver shot at him, and turned his own gaze back to the water.    
  
Carver grit his teeth in an effort to hold back his denials.  He had learned a long time ago that it only egged his companions on.  He let them tease him until they grew bored with his silence.  As long as he kept his mouth shut, Merrill would be safe.     
  
As tired as he was, he didn't truly mind this duty.  Even standing guard under the imagined stare of the statues in the commons didn't bother him too much if he ignored the tranquil mages selling their enchantments.  The only task he wanted to avoid was hunting.  Any suspected mage could be someone he knew.  Even worse, it could be Merrill.   
  
He shuddered at the thought of the tiny elf being brought into the circle.     
  
He had nightmares sometimes that he would be the one sent to bring her in.   In his dreams he was a passenger in his own body and he would watch helplessly as she cried and begged him to let her go.  When he still advanced on her, she’d pull a dagger and slice open her arm so she could summon enough power to defend herself.  Sometimes he blasted her with Silence and dragged her to the Gallows, other times she cast too quickly for him to stop her and she murders him.  In his worst dreams she becomes possessed and he has to cut her down.  He knew now that not all abominations deformed beasts, but in his dreams Merrill always became grotesquely twisted, her beauty overwhelmed by the demon wearing her skin.   
  
Those dreams drove him to join the hunting teams whenever he could.  It was the only way he could protect her.  More than once he had been able to mislead his partners and steer them away from the alienage.  He detested the duty though.  Every mage they successfully captured reminded him of someone he knew or cared about.  The last time had been a young woman whose sad blue eyes reminded him of Bethany.     
  
It pained him to arrest her because he kept picturing his twin in the same situation.  She had often speculated that life in the Circle might be simpler.  She had been so tired of running away from every home they had ever made for themselves.  Even the final moments of her life were spent on the run.  If she hadn’t been protected by her family, she might have given herself up, just so she would have some stability.   
  
The woman, who was about as old as Bethany would be had she lived, hadn't struggled or argued.  Her husband had held her hand tightly until she gently pried his fingers loose and kissed his tear stained cheek.  The little girl clinging to her skirts had been more difficult to dislodge though.   
  
Ser Kerras had grabbed her by the scruff of her neck and practically tossed her at her father.  The woman had wanted to protest but Carver saw her bite her knuckles and take a step back from her family.  He wanted to comfort the woman as they led her away from her home but Kerras was a mean bastard and would find some way to punish both of them for it eventually.    
  
Keran's voice pulled him from his thoughts.  "You can talk to me you know.  We have been friends for years.  I won't share your secrets."   
  
Carver wanted to trust the other man.  Keran had a very open mind about mages, which was rather surprising when you considered his experience with blood magic.  He'd been held captive by that crazy bitch Tarohne for weeks while she tried to force his mind open to demon possession.  But he knew he'd also been rescued by mages, and it was because of Carver's brother Gabe that Knight-Captain Cullen had allowed him to stay in the order.  Not for the first time he thought maybe he was being overly cautious.  Keran was a good friend and he understood the need for secrecy.    
  
He turned to Keran, opened his mouth, but before he could decide what to say a bell began to toll across the water.   Both of their heads whipped around.  The signal bell was rarely used at night.  People didn’t like to visit the Gallows in the dark.  Even the local citizens were made uneasy by the old prison’s aura of despair.  It was the reason only two guards were required at the small dock after curfew.     
  
The light of the half moon illuminated the ferry as it moved silently across the harbor.   The two of them left their places at the gate and walked over to meet it, their steps echoed loudly on the wood of the dock, breaking through the sound of wind and surf.   
  
Keran pulled his sword free of its scabbard.  "This can't be good," he said warily.   
  
Carver nodded grimly.  When the ferry got closer he could see that the Templar recruit who manned it was accompanied by an old man who was rocking back and forth, wringing his hands.  "What's going on?" He demanded of the younger Templar.   
  
The recruit shrugged and gestured at the old man.  "He wouldn't say much.  Thinks he needs to talk to someone higher up the chain of command."   
  
The man stumbled getting off the ferry, nearly tumbling into the water before catching his balance.  "It's important... can't trust this to a peach faced boy."   
  
The recruit flushed and opened his mouth for an angry reply, but Carver cut him off.  "Why are you here?"   
  
The man stumbled closer.  "Are you in charge?" he slurred.  He squinted his eyes and leaned forward until his face was only inches from the younger man's.  "Naw ye can't be.  Yer just a boy too."   
  
Carver recoiled at the alcohol fumes coming from the man.  It certainly explained his inability to stand straight.  He put a hand against the man's chest and pushed him back more gently than he wanted to, but it was still enough to nearly knock him over.  "I'm as high up the chain of command as you are going to get tonight, old man. So why don't you tell me what you want?"   
  
"I come to report an apostate," the man said irritably.  He punched a finger against Carver's chestplate.  "I need real templars!  Not a bunch of scrawny boys!"   
  
Keran chuckled.  "He's so hammered he doesn't realize he has to look up to talk to you."   
  
Carver shot Keran a glare, causing him to swallow and smile sheepishly.  He turned that same glare on the drunk.  "Are you sure he was a mage?" he demanded.   
  
“I saw him, I did!” the drunk crowed.  He seemed to have forgotten that he didn’t want help from “boys”.  “He was carrying one of them fancy poles with a crystal at the top.  It was spitting out fire, an’ he burned a man to ashes!  When he looked at me, my heart near stopped ‘cause his eyes were glowin’ blue!  He threatened to toss a fireball at me too!”   
  
“Do you know where he is?” Keran asked.   
  
"Well... I don't know for sure.   I took off when the blighter threatened me.  I wasn’t sticking around to get toasted."   
  
Carver's jaw clenched in irritation.  "So you want us to go arrest an apostate, but you don't know where he is?"    
  
The drunk didn’t seem to realize that he was treading on thin ice. "He were in Darktown."   
  
“Oh that’s helpful,” Carver said sarcastically.  The warren of tunnels under Kirkwall was extensive, not to mention the fact that it was practically a maze.  Even people who lived down there got lost sometimes.  During his first year in the city, he had plenty of opportunity to explore it while he was working as a smuggler.  He’d lost count of how many corpses he’d found that didn’t appear to be the victims of murder, but rather the unfortunate ones who never found their way out. “Shouldn’t take us all that long to find him then.”   
  
“I’ve seen him around before,” the old drunk said.  “The Fereldans are always visiting him, bringing him their sick.”  He spit on the ground near Carver’s boot.  “Those fools think he’s a healer, but not everyone comes out alive.  He’s probably sacrificing them for his blood magic!”   
  
Carver sighed.   Anders.  “Alright.  Let’s go find this apostate.  Take me to where you’ve seen him.”   



	6. Chapter 6

Carver followed the man through the twisted streets of Lowtown to the lift that would take them to Darktown. He knew a shorter path to the idiot mage's clinic, but he followed anyway. After all, he wasn’t supposed to know where he was going, and he had to keep up this charade for the man’s benefit. 

It was well after midnight and they weren't even close to the clinic yet. His legs ached from spending most of the night standing or walking in his heavy armor, and he was really regretting not getting a nap before he started his guard duty. _This place is too big_ , he thought irritably. 

He would never admit it, but sometimes he truly missed Lothering. Small town life had chafed when he was younger, but at least walking across town wasn't an all day endeavor. At this rate it would be morning before he got back to the Gallows. He distracted himself from the ache in his feet by imagining the beating he wanted to give Anders.

The man he followed seemed to be sobering up. Whether from the exercise or from fear wasn't clear but Carver could see his hesitance as they got closer to the clinic. When they came around the corner the man came to a sudden halt and Carver wanted to laugh out loud at the sheer terror on his face. He'd been all bluster on the dock at the Gallows, but now that he was faced with the possible wrath of a mage, he learned the value of caution.

"There," he said as he gestured toward the double doors of the clinic with shaking fingers.

Carver wiped his smile of amusement away with one gauntleted hand. "Thank you, serah. I can handle things from here."

The man's relief was palpable. He turned to leave but stopped and turned back to Carver. "I uh... don't suppose there is a... reward?"

Carver rolled his eyes and reached for the purse at his waist. He pulled out a few silvers and tossed them to the dirt at the man's feet. "Get out of here." He watched the man scramble to pick them up and scurry away. He was probably headed to the closest pub to drink it away.

He turned back to the double doors. The lantern was not lit which meant the doors were probably locked. His teeth flashed in a wicked grin as he reached for his belt again and pulled out a small leather pouch. His grin widened as he moved toward the doors. 

xxxx

Anders woke with a start and groaned at the ache in his neck as he lifted his head from the edge of the bed. He'd fallen asleep kneeling on the floor next to Ava, and he didn’t have to be a healer to know he’d regret it. The candles had burned down and he couldn't see her, but he could hear that Ava’s breathing was slow and even in sleep. He smiled softly and smoothed his hands over the blankets to make sure she was covered properly.

The hairs on the back of his neck rose and he gave an involuntary shiver. Something was wrong. He went still and listened carefully. There was a scraping sound coming from the main room of the clinic. Maybe? Was he hearing things?

The creak of door hinges had him lurching to his feet and cursing the stiffness of his body. Ignoring the tingle of blood rushing into a foot that had fallen asleep, he moved quickly and silently to the opening to the small room where he kept his sleeping quarters. There were still embers in the large hearth at the back of the clinic and their glow illuminated a large man in silvery armor creeping in through the front entrance. 

Anders channeled a spear of power into the embers, causing them to flare up violently despite the lack of fuel. The intruder spun toward the hearth revealing the flaming sword emblazoned on his chest plate. 

_Templar!_ Justice surged forward. "You have made a mistake coming here, Templar!" The spirit cried, his deep voice coming from Anders' mouth in a growling boom.

A blast of Silence swept through him as the Templar activated his anti magic aura. It wasn't enough to stop Justice, but it did shock him out of his forward charge just long enough for the Templar to speak.

"Calm down Magey. It's me."

Anders desperately grabbed the bedroom's door frame and concentrated on holding the spirit back. "Carver?" He gasped. He could see the young man clearly now, and he recognized the shockingly blue eyes below tousled black hair. Justice clamored wildly, causing Anders to clench his jaw against the rage. "What are you doing here?" He grunted through his teeth.

_Templar come to arrest us must defend ourselves must protect Ava must punish-_

Carver watched him warily, but did not reach for his sword. He held his hands away from his sides in full view, but otherwise held completely still. "Hullo Justice."

Anders blinked and the haze faded from his vision. He could feel Justice's confusion as the spirit receded.

"Alright there, Magey?" Carver asked. His voice and eyes were wary, but his body stayed in its relaxed, non-threatening stance. 

Anders nodded. "Why are you here?" He asked again. He frowned as he clearly remembered locking the doors. "Wait, how did you get in?"

Having realized the danger had passed the younger man grinned and held up a hand. What looked like thick needles, one with a bent tip, were held pinched between his thumb and forefinger. "Isabella and Varric aren't the only ones who can pick locks. I was a smuggler, remember?"

Anders nodded slowly and stepped further into the room. Carver's grin reminded him of Gabe which calmed him further. He didn't get along well with this younger Hawke brother, especially since he joined the Templars, but it was hard not to notice his good looks. Like his brother, he had Leandra's eyes. He suddenly wondered who had comforted that wonderful woman's youngest son after her death. Everyone had been so worried about Gabe. Had Carver been forgotten?

"Someone brought news to the Gallows of an apostate,” Carver said in answer to his earlier question. “Lucky me, I get to investigate.”

 

xxxx

There was a flash of red hair and suddenly Carver found himself staring down into familiar blue eyes. "Please!" The little girl begged. "Don't take him to the circle! He was only trying to help me."

She was thinner, her skin much paler. The freckles he remembered still spread across her nose and cheeks like wind scattered autumn leaves, but they were faded, as if her skin no longer saw sunlight. Dark smudges under her eyes made her seem younger and more vulnerable than the last time he saw her. 

She didn't appear to recognize him, for which he was grateful. He had kept his helmet on while they took her mother away. Only Ser Kerras had revealed himself.

He was surprised to see her here, facing off with him so defiantly, but he supposed he shouldn't be. When her mother had been made Tranquil she had admitted that her daughter also had the gift. Carver had been dispatched to bring her to the Circle, only to find her gone, her father dead. No one knew where she was. Apparently she had found herself a place in Darktown. That Anders was involved came as no surprise. The healer had been part of the mage underground for years.

"Ava, no," Anders said urgently. He dropped down to his knees next to the little girl and wrapped his arms around her protectively. "He isn't here to hurt me. Or you. Is he?" This last was directed at Carver with a suspicious glare. 

"Smuggling baby mages out of the city?" Carver drawled instead of answering the question. "I thought you were finished with that business."

Anders' frown deepened. "How do you know about that?"

Carver shrugged. "I'm not an idiot." Merrill had told him about the mage underground, but it amused him to see the healer squirm.

"I mean, how do you know she's a mage?"

"Anders?" The girl, Ava, still watched Carver with defiant eyes. The tremor in her voice, betrayed her fear despite her brave gaze. Her fingers twisted in Anders' coat, unconsciously pulling closer to him until she had her head buried under his chin. 

Carver felt his heart lurch at the distrust he saw in her eyes. Bright blue eyes, like her mother's. Full of life. Full of spirit. Like Bethany's. He sighed and shook his head. "I'm not here to arrest Anders," he told Ava honestly. "I just came to talk. May I speak to him alone?"  
"It's alright Ava," Anders said. When she tried to protest again he brushed her bright red hair away from her face and gave her a reassuring smile, surprising Carver with its tenderness. "Go lie down and try to sleep more. I'm sorry we woke you."

Ava nodded solemnly and turned to go back to bed. After a few steps she stopped and threw herself at Anders, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck in a quick hug. The mage returned the hug automatically, obviously surprised. The girl gave him a peck on the cheek, then with one last mistrustful glare in Carver's direction went to bed. 

xxxx

Anders touched his cheek with the tips of his fingers absently. The image of the family he dreamed of flashed through his mind again.

"Precious."

Anders turned to see that Carver's smirk matched his sarcastic tone. "So, Little Hawke. Investigating apostates? In my clinic?”

There was a flash of irritation in the young man's eyes at the old nickname. "I came to warn you," he said in a tone that said he wished he hadn't bothered. "A drunk showed up at the Gallows. He said you threatened him."

Anders covered his eyes and groaned. He should have known that would come back to bite him in the ass. "Of course he did."

Carver's voice dripped with disgust. "So it's true. Brilliant move there, magey." He walked over and leaned a hip against one of the tables Anders used as an alchemy bench and idly picked up a bottle. Popping the cork, he sniffed at it. He grimaced and put it back. "Lucky for you, Keran and I were the ones on duty tonight."

Lucky indeed, although he never could figure out why Carver bothered protecting him. In fact when he had first joined the order, Hawke had disappeared and everyone wondered when Anders and Merrill would be next. It had been a tense few days until Fenris discovered Hawke had just been dealing with the business of reacquiring the Amell estate and his message about his whereabouts had gone undelivered. It was a good thing Hawke had turned up before Anders and Carver crossed paths, because he would have gladly blasted the younger man into a messy pulp if he truly had turned his brother in to the Templars. 

Since then, they never saw Carver much. His training kept him busy, and after the Qunari incident, Meredith kept him under watch. She had not been pleased to find out that he had kept his brother a secret from the Order. As it was, Hawke’s status as Champion protected them both. The citizens of Kirkwall knew Carver was his brother, and it wouldn’t be prudent for the Knight Commander to make him disappear, any more than it would be for Hawke himself to disappear. Not if she wanted to avoid outright rebellion.

''Well thank you," he said sincerely. "I was just protecting Ava. She had run across some men who were going to... “he trailed off for a moment and had to suppress the fury that rose up to choke him. "Apparently they had a taste for little girls."

Carver grimaced in disgust. "I see." He pushed himself away from the work bench. "Well you might want to make yourself scarce for a few weeks. There was a recruit there when the man told us about you. I can't let this go completely unreported."

Anders nodded. He remembered rescuing the boy and “testing” him for possession. If Carver had been on duty with anyone but Keran, he wouldn't have had a chance to get out a warning. It felt strange to be grateful to a couple of Templars. "I will," he said. “And pass my thanks to Keran as well.”

Carver grunted noncommittally and turned to leave. 

"Wait," Anders called after him as he remembered Carver’s earlier words. The Templar turned back with a brow raised in curiosity. "How did you know Ava is a mage?"

Carver sighed and ran a hand over his face. "I recognized her because I'm the one who arrested her mother," he said quietly. "And when she was made Tranquil, she told us about her daughter. We've been looking for her."

Justice seethed. Anders took a deep calming breath, which wasn’t as helpful as he’d hoped. "Why was she made Tranquil?"

Carver wouldn't meet his eyes when he answered, setting off alarms in Anders’ head. "She accused one of the Templars of rape."

"And he accused her of blood magic, didn't he." It wasn't a question.

"There was evidence-"

Anders threw up a hand in disgust, privately thankful the skin remained unbroken by lines of blue power. "It could have been planted!"

Carver held up his hands defensively. "I wasn't involved with the investigation. I only found out about it afterwards."

"Who was it?"

Carver shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably. "Ser Kerras."

Anders' vision went blue. The name was familiar. It was the same Templar who would have killed the Starkhaven mages. If it hadn't been for Hawke....

"Whoa magey, calm down there."

"I'm fine," Anders snapped. 

"Uh huh."

Time to change the subject or Justice was going to have a conniption fit. "What about Ava?" he asked. “Do you plan on putting her in your report?”

Carver gave an exasperated huff. He grumbled something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like _pushy upstart mages_. "Just keep her out of trouble, and she won't have to worry about what I know."

Anders sighed with relief. "Thank you," he said again. He grinned widely to take the sting out of his next words. "I suppose you're not a complete git after all." 

Carver glared at him, waved his hand through the air dismissively and left without another word.

Anders locked the clinic doors behind him, and turned back to his bedroom. Ava was sitting up in the bed with the blankets pulled around her thin shoulders. Her wide eyes were fearful and her bottom lip trembled. The expression would have been cute, if it weren’t so sad.

“He’s not going to take you away?”

Anders sat down on the edge of the bed and gently rubbed her back. “No, love. He’s a.... friend. He came to warn me about future patrols.”

Ava didn’t blink, but she relaxed slightly. “And me?”

 _So much trust_ , he thought. _Please Maker, let me live up to her expectations_. “You’ll stay here tonight, and then go back to your uncle’s home in the morning. I’m going to stay somewhere else for a week or two until the Templars are finished with their searches.”

“I’m scared I won’t see you again,” Ava said in a small voice laced with fear and insecurity. 

Anders knew it had been put there by the Templars. Watching her mother be taken away had to leave scars. He smiled gently. “Don’t worry about me,” he said. “I’ve been avoiding Templars for years. I’ll be fine.”

Ava nodded and leaned into his side. Anders wrapped his arm around her shoulder tightly, and enjoyed the warmth of her trust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing a story from multiple points of view is odd for me, but kind of fun. I was going to try and keep each chapter to a single person, but it wasn't working out in my head. The whole point of this is to experiment... well and to get this story the hell out of my head so I can think of other things. I find this whole inspiration thing incredibly distracting at work lol.


	7. Chapter 7

Carver took the shorter path out of Darktown.  He only had a few hours until sunrise and he needed to get back fast.  He wasn't looking forward to making his report, but if he got to Cullen quickly before anyone else found out he'd gone off on his own, he might avoid having his activities reported to the Knight-Commander.  Knight-Captain Cullen still trusted him despite his relationship to a known apostate.  
  
 _Although maybe he shouldn't_ , he thought grimly.    
  
Young Ava was not the only mage he had allowed to go free.  He had never taken an active hand in the mage underground, had even declined to join the secret meetings held by Thrask and his fellow sympathizers.  But he was far from a model Templar, unlike what that obnoxious healer accused him of.   Anders would swallow his tongue if he knew how many mages had slipped free of the Gallows because of Carver's willingness to turn a blind eye towards certain activities.  In and outside the Circle.    
  
As he walked, his mind wandered.  The image of Ava's wary, yet defiant expression kept floating through his mind.  Although their physical similarities ended at their blue eyes, he couldn't help but be reminded of his twin.    
  
 _Bethany_ _gave Gabe her sweetest smile.  “May I have one of yours?  Mine are all gone, and mother took the rest to the Chantry for the Sisters.”_  
  
 _"You'll get as fat as Old Lady Wendel if you keep eating cookies," Carver mumbled through a mouthful of crumbs._  
  
 _Bethany_ _turned to him with a glare.  "One more won’t hurt me.  Besides, you had more than I did."_  
  
 _Carver popped the last of his cookie in his mouth and chewed smugly.  "You're getting a bit pudgy," he said after swallowing.  "I'm just trying to help."_  
  
 _Bethany_ _stomped her foot angrily.  "Even if I do get fat, at least I will still be smarter than you."_  
  
 _"And prettier," Gabe added. "Even if she does get fat."  He winked at her when she turned her glare on him._  
  
 _Carver bristled.  Gabe always took Bethany’s side.  "Oh yeah well no one will care if you’re pretty since you have to hide away from everyone all the time."  When Bethany’s wide eyes filled with tears, Carver felt a twinge of guilt.  Once again his mouth had run off on its own._  
  
 _No longer amused by their bickering, Gabe frowned at Caver.  “That’s not fair, brother.”_  
  
 _Bethany_ _blinked furiously until her tears dried, and her blue eyes flashed furiously.  She held up a hand and a ball of flame burst into existence over her open palm.  “I’m going to fry you like bacon,” she said in a low threatening tone._  
  
 _“Bethany!” Gabe jumped up from his stool._  
  
 _Carver just rolled his eyes.  “I’m telling dad you used magic while he wasn’t home.”_  
  
 _“I’ll melt your lips shut first,” Bethany snarled._  
  
 _Ignoring the warning in her eyes, Carver also jumped up and took a threatening step towards her.  “Do it, I dare you.”_  
  
 _“Children.”_  
  
 _Three black haired heads turned to the door where their parents were just coming through the door.  Their father Malcolm was calmly helping Leandra remove her wrap, but the look he was giving them made all three children squirm despite the soft, even tone of his voice._  
  
 _Bethany’s fireball flicked out, and she mumbled an apology first to Malcolm, then a reluctant one to Carver.  He smirked at her as their father lectured her about using magic when she was angry._  
  
 _When the lecture was over, Bethany turned back to Carver and stuck her tongue out at him.   She approached Gabe to sweet talk him into sharing his last ginger snap with her.  Their older brother gave in with a roll of his eyes.  He never could say no to the little brat._  
  
 _Once she had her prize Bethany joined Carver on the bench where he sat.  She was glaring at him... even as she offered him half of the cookie._  
  
Carver smiled sadly at the memory.  She probably would have thrown that fireball at him if their father hadn't interceded.  It wasn't the last time he'd baited her to the point of threatening him with fiery mayhem either.  He always thought she was prettiest when she was angry, although he would have chewed off his own tongue before he told her that.    
  
 _I should have told her before...._ _well, before._ He hadn't expected to loose his twin so young, so suddenly.  There were a lot of things he never got to tell her.  
  
Ava had the beginnings of that same beauty, and he'd seen a flash of it tonight when she'd faced him down to protect Anders.  
  
Carver came to a stop. He stood at the juncture between two streets. One would take him to the docks and from there back to the Gallows.  The other would take him to the alienage.  
  
 _Go right damn it._  
  
He lifted his foot and turned left.  
  
 _Blighted idiot!  Go back to the Gallows.  It's the middle of the night.  She's going to be asleep._ His feet weren't listening.  They moved faster even as he cursed himself for a fool.    
  
The alienage was quiet except for the soft susurration of the wind through the leaves of the Vhenadahl.  He came to a halt at the base of the huge tree.  It's colorfully painted bark was illuminated by guttering candles.  The flames flickered constantly, making beautiful patterns that Carver paid no attention to.  His eyes were glued to the door of Merrill's home across the square.  
  
Carver was still trying to talk himself into going home when the crunch of dirt under his boot made him realize he was moving.  When he stood directly in front of her door he sighed in resignation and raised his fist to knock on the stained wood.    
  
Feminine laughter drifted through the thin barrier, and he froze before his knuckles made contact.  
  
"Don't leave yet, 'Bela.  Please."  
  
There was a throaty laugh.  "I think I've corrupted you enough for the night, kitten."  
  
 _Shit. Isabela._  Carver did _not_ want her to catch him here.  He took a step back, but it was too late.    
  
The door opened and Isabela looked up at him in surprise.  Her expression quickly turned sly and she grinned at him widely.  "Little Hawke!  My, my what are you doing here?  And so late."  
  
"Carver?" Merrill peeked around Isabela's shoulder.  She blinked her large green eyes at him owlishly.  
  
Carver smiled softly.  He couldn't help it.  Merrill was small and delicate next to the voluptuous pirate, almost vulnerable, although he knew she was quite formidable in a fight.  Her skin was flushed bright pink... she must have been drinking.  When she stepped out from behind Isabela, he felt his own cheeks turn pink.  She was only wearing a thin cream colored shift.  The firelight behind her revealed the shape of her body to his avid gaze.  It wasn't the first time he'd seen her in such a state of undress - he'd been involved with many games of Wicked Grace where clothing became the ante - but it never failed to affect him.  
  
"Uh..."  Unfortunately it affected his head.  Both of them.    
  
Isabela's grin was positively wicked.  She gave Merrill an affectionate hug.  "Well there you go sweetness.  You don't need me here to keep you entertained anymore."  She turned to Carver, and since he had only taken a single step back from the door and was still frozen in place by his sudden inability to think clearly, squeezed past him.  Her breasts brushed against his armor, and although he couldn't feel it, he still got goose bumps.  "I will leave her in your capable hands, Ser Carver," she said in a low, suggestive tone.  
  
Isabela practically skipped away, making Carver frown at her retreating backside (seriously, how could anyone _not_ stare?) and wonder what she was being so smug about.  Thin fingers pulling gently on his elbow prompted him to look down at the dark haired elf that didn't even reach his shoulder.  
  
"Is there something wrong?" Merrill asked in the lilting accent that always sounded to Carver like she was on the verge of singing.  "You're here so late.  Or is this a human custom I've missed?  You've never done it before though.  I mean, I don't mind... it's just that-''. She stopped suddenly and her face twisted into a grimace when she realized her mouth was running away with her.  "I'm sorry.  Would you like to come inside for some tea?"   
  
Carver's smile came back in a flash.  The melancholy he'd been feeling lifted, and he was glad he'd come.  Even if he did have to deal with Isabela’s teasing, or a meeting with Meredith for leaving his post.  He put his hand over hers and squeezed gently.  "I would like that, yes.  Thank you Merrill."  
  
As he walked through the door he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye.  He stopped and looked behind him.  He scanned the square, but there was no one there as far as he could tell.   _Must be the shadows on the tree,_ he thought with a mental shrug.  He turned back to follow Merrill into her home, already looking forward to the sweet tea he could smell brewing.


	8. Chapter 8

“Ser Carver will you please come with me?”  
  
Carver looked up in surprise at the monotone voice.   Elsa stood in the doorway of the barracks, her face a mask of unnatural calm.   A chill ran down his spine as he felt the weight of her blank stare.   Then his overly tired mind caught on to the fact that he was being summoned by the Knight-Commander's personal assistant and he felt his breath hitch.     
  
Keran looked up from the bench where he sat cleaning his armor and gave Carver a worried look.   Carver frowned at him and gave a slight shake of his head.   He had no idea what she might want.    “I will be along shortly,” he said.  
  
“I am to wait for you,” Elsa answered.     
  
Carver shrugged and finished buckling on his armor, grateful that he was awake despite being exhausted.   At least she hadn’t caught him in his smalls.   He knew that Tranquil had no sense of modesty, but that didn’t mean he felt the same way about being unclothed in their presence.   Maker, but he hated being clothed in their presence.   He suppressed a shudder when he felt Elsa watching him, and was relieved when she turned away to lead him.  
  
At least until he remembered who she worked for.   “Where are we going?” he asked as his longer strides let him catch up and walk beside her.  
  
Elsa didn’t look at him when she answered.   “The Knight-Commander wishes to see you.”  
  
“Oh.”   _Oh._  Well he'd known, but having it confirmed didn't make him feel any better.   He wanted to ask her if she knew why he was being summoned, but it would be pointless.   He was already fairly sure he knew, and he wasn’t mentally prepared to be right.  
  
The walk to Meredith’s office felt eternal, but really only took a few minutes, because it wasn’t too far from the Barracks.   Unfortunately, it required him to walk through groups of his fellow Templars, and he could tell by their looks that they also knew he was in trouble.   He could see it in the way they wouldn’t meet his eye, or the way conversations stopped as he passed.   Meredith didn’t summon very many people outside her little circle of sycophants all that often anymore, and everyone knew Carver was not one of them.     
  
Over the last few years the Order had split down the middle.   There were those who felt that mages were the lowest dregs of society, only meant to be used as tools if not destroyed, like Ser Karras, and before him Ser Alrik.   There were those who felt that it was their duty to take care of the mages like unfortunate orphans, which Carver found just silly considering many of them were distinguished scholars and geniuses.   Even the lowest of the mages had a better education than most nobles.   The only reason they seemed so naive was because they were kept locked up from childhood.   Ser Thrask seemed to lead the latter movement, and he was constantly trying to talk Carver into speaking with him against the abuses the mages received.     
  
Carver always turned him down.   He agreed that the mages in Kirkwall were treated too harshly, but he couldn’t bring too much attention to himself.   He had to keep his relationship to Gabe secret for so long, and when it came out that he was the Champion’s brother things got rather...  unpleasant for him for a while.   So he kept his head down, and treated the mages with the respect they deserved...  assuming they deserved it.   Just like non magic bearers, some of them could be complete tits.  
  
As he passed the gate that led out to the Commons, he caught a glimpse of Grace.   She was a perfect example of a mage he didn’t get along with.   He could understand her attitude at first.   Her lover was dead, she was being accused of Blood Magic and went through months of scrutiny, constantly worried about being executed or made Tranquil before they decided she was trustworthy.   But that was years ago, and she still had a chip on her shoulder.   She seemed especially angry with Carver, and he was sure it had something to do with his brother not doing enough to help her escape the Templars all those years ago.     
  
Grace caught sight of him and glared.   Just for fun, he winked at her before he stepped into the hall that would take him to Meredith’s office.   The glimpse of disgust he got before she was out of his range of vision made him smile.     
  
It faded quickly once he stood in front of Meredith’s office.   He swallowed to moisten a suddenly very dry throat when Elsa opened the door and motioned for him to proceed inside.     
  
The Knight-Commander was seated behind her desk, reading a report.   She didn’t look up at him for several minutes while she read it although she did thank Elsa absently.   He tried not to fidget, but it was difficult.   When she looked up at him, he knew she read him as easily as the report she was setting down on a neat stack of similar papers.   It was a knee-jerk reaction to come to attention and salute and pretend he hadn’t been staring fearfully at the top of her head.   He kept his eyes just to the left of her ear so he could keep himself somewhat calm.  
  
It didn’t help very much.  
  
Meredith leaned back in her chair and placed her hands in her lap.   She studied him for a moment before she spoke.   "Ser Carver Hawke."  She straightened a paper on her desk with a single finger before she stood and moved around the desk to approach him.   When she stood directly in front of him he dropped his gaze and met her eyes.      
  
Beautiful, but cold, and at the moment, disappointed.     
  
Once he was looking at her directly, she spoke.   "It has been brought to my attention that you were on duty last night when a report came in about an apostate in Darktown."  She paused, but he didn't answer.   "Do you care to tell me why you didn't report it right away?"  
  
Carver had to clear his throat before he could answer.   "I reported it to Knight-Captain Cullen-"   
  
"After you returned from investigating on your own," Meredith snapped.   "That was not your duty last night.   You left your post."  
  
Luckliy he'd already come up with a reason for Cullen.   "I felt that with my experience in Darktown, I was the best choice to go," he said.  
  
"I see.   Very logical."  
  
Carver resisted the urge to let out a breath as his tension eased.   Meredith turned away and walked back to the desk.   She picked up the report she'd been reading.   "You didn't find anyone though."  
  
"I have a lead," Carver said.   "I volunteered to go looking again."  
  
She looked at him over her shoulder.   "No detours this time, I hope."  
  
Carver broke into a cold sweat, but managed to keep his voice steady when he spoke.   "I'm sorry, Knight-Commander?"  
  
Meredith put the report back down and turned fully to pin him with a glare.  "You thought I wouldn’t find out about your trip to the alienage?  I am not a fool, young man."  
  
Carver remembered the fleeting impression of being watched just before he'd entered Merrill's home.   "I was being followed."  It was not a question.  
  
Meredith lifted her brows in an expression that suggested he should have known.  And he should have.   He felt himself flush red with rage and no small amount of humiliation that it hadn't occurred to him.   "What have I done to warrant such distrust?" He demanded.  
  
"It is not what you have done," she answered simply.  The rest of the statement floated unspoken in the air between them.  
  
 _It is what you have not done._  
  
"You speak of my brother," he said angrily.  
  
"Among others," Meredith said as she seated herself behind the desk again.  
  
Carver felt as if the floor shifted beneath his feet.    _Please, Maker, not Merrill.  She can’t know about Merrill._    "Am I being accused of something?" He asked in a relatively calm voice.  Gabe would be proud of his restraint.  
  
"Of course not," Meredith said absently as she sorted through documents.   She pinned him with her gaze and he knew the statement was a lie.   "You will be sent out tonight to find the mage that was reported to you," she said sternly.   "If I find that they escaped, I will be very displeased.   Do not give me further reason to investigate your activities.   Do you understand?"  
  
Carver saluted as he gave his answer.   "Yes Ser, I understand."  
  
"Very good," Meredith answered.   "You are dismissed."  
  
Carver bowed respectfully and turned to leave, but was stopped when she spoke again.     
  
"And Ser Hawke.   Give my regards to your brother when you see him again."  
  
He grit his teeth at the title.   He hated being called Hawke, because everyone attributed the name to his brother.   No one called him that, and he suspected she used it as a warning.   His brother was only free by her indulgence, and apparently, so was he.  
  
He nodded and left her office, trying to look like he wasn't in a hurry.   Panicked thoughts chased each other around in his skull.  If he failed to bring in an apostate, there would be consequences.  But Anders would be gone by now if he had heeded Carver's warning last night.   Even if he didn't go into hiding, Carver wasn't sure he could even get him into custody.   Justice would certainly surface and Carver knew how that would turn out.  A squad of Templars would not be a match for that angry spirit.     
  
Not to mention the fact that Gabe would skin him if he arrested Anders.   His brother appeared to be all smiles, dirty jokes, and heroism, but despite the fact that his anger was rare, it could be vicious.  Carver didn’t want to be on the wrong side of his temper.    
  
No, Carver didn't want to arrest Anders.   Gabe may not kill him for arresting his best friend, but he did not want to see how much their family ties would protect him.  Especially after he'd virtually slapped his brother in the face by joining the Templars.  
  
 _Maybe I should ask him for help._  
  
Carver immediately discarded the idea.   It would put Gabe in danger if Carver were still being watched.  And he was a grown damn man.  He didn't need his older brother fixing all of his problems for him.  
  
"Ser Carver, a moment of your time please?"  
  
Carver groaned, but turned to face Ser Karras.   He was too drained by a night of too little sleep and his meeting with Meredith to pretend civility.  In his exhaustion he hadn’t even noticed that he’d walked out into the commons instead of back to the barracks while he was lost in thought.   "Yes?" He asked on an exasperated sigh.     
  
Karras scowled at him, but that was his normal expression so it was hard to tell if he even noticed Carver's terse greeting.   "I will be accompanying you on your hunt," he said.  
  
 _Just what I need_ , Carver thought in irritation.  He didn't argue, however.   Karras was one of Meredith's bootlickers, and was probably under orders.   "Alright," he said neutrally.   He looked at the sky.   It was mid morning.   Hopefully Anders was gone from the clinic by now.   Karras wouldn't put up with any delays.   "I was planning to leave-"  
  
"We will leave immediately," Karras interrupted.  "I would like to get this done before night fall."  His eyes turned away and he stared intently just past Carver's shoulder.   "I have an engagement tonight that I would be very disappointed to miss."  
  
Carver turned to see who the other Templar was staring at just in time to see young Alain notice Karras' attention.   The boy's eyes widened fearfully and his face paled before he jerked his head away and pretended to sort through the enchantments for sale at the booth he worked in.   He turned back and glared at Karras.   The older Templar’s preferences were no secret, and he found it disgusting.     
  
“In an hour,” Carver said sharply, bringing Karras’ attention back to him.   “I’ll meet you at the gates in an hour.   I have things I need to take care of.”    
  
Karras gave a snort of disgust, but surprisingly he didn’t answer.   He spun on a heel and stalked away.   Carver breathed a sigh of relief that the man hadn’t argued any further.   He turned, and approached the stand where Alain was straightening an already tidy bench of enchanted daggers.   The boy glanced up at him fearfully, obviously wary.   Carver did his best to smooth the anger from his expression.   He didn’t want Alain to be afraid of him.     
  
“Can I help you, Ser?” Alain asked hesitantly.   His eyes darted back and forth between Carver and Karras’ retreating form.   He looked only slightly relieved that the older man had left.     
  
He decided on the direct approach.   “I saw the way he was looking at you,” Carver said softly.   “Tell me what’s going on.”  
  
All the blood drained from Alain’s face, and for a moment Caver worried that he might faint, but the boy swallowed and took a deep breath to steady himself.   “I don’t know what you mean,” he said.   Unfortunately, if he was trying to be nonchalant, the waver in his voice was a dead give away.  
  
“What is he doing to you?” Carver demanded.   Still softly.   They were in the open market of the Gallows, and it was busy, if not crowded.     
  
“I...  I can’t-”  
  
Carver grabbed Alain by the arm and tugged gently, but it was enough.   Alain’s eyes met his, and they were full of so much shame that it was obvious what was happening.   “He’s hurt you, hasn’t he?”  
  
Alain’s eyes filled with tears.   He chewed at his bottom lip and nodded slightly, his eyes lowered to the flaming sword on Carver’s chestplate.   “He said he would make me Tranquil if I told anyone...”  
  
Carver cursed under his breath.   Alain let out a yelp, and he realized he was squeezing the young mage’s arm in a death grip.   He let go quickly and took half a step back.   “I’m sorry,” he said quickly.   Alain rubbed his arm and nodded, still chewing his lip, still not looking up at Carver.   His fear and his shame were painful to witness.   “How long has this been going on?” he asked.  
  
“Always,” Alain whispered.  
  
Carver placed his hand on Alain’s shoulder, careful this time, although the boy still flinched slightly at his touch.   “Look at me,” he said.   Alain looked up.   He wasn’t really a boy.   Not any more.   His face was young, but he must be about the same age Carver was when he’d come to Kirkwall.   “Never again,” Carver said.   “Do you understand?”  
  
“What...” Alain’s voice cracked and he swallowed, then tried again.   “What can you do to stop it?”  
  
That was a good question.   What could he do?  Confront the older Templar?  Yes, that would go over well.    _Get him out_ , a voice whispered in the back of his mind.   It sounded suspiciously like Anders.    _Great_ , he thought.    _My conscience would sound like a complete arsehole_.   “I don’t know,” he said out loud.   “But I will think of something.   I promise.”  When Alain just stared at him doubtfully, he shook the mage by the shoulder.   “I promise,” he said again.  
  
When Alain finally nodded, Carver sent a prayer to the Maker that it was a promise he could keep.  
  
 _Hawke could do it,_ the obnoxious voice in his mind said.    _Shut up,_ he told it.   He found it indescribably irritating that even his own inner voice had more faith in his brother, than it found in him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap, my chapters are getting longer! Better too, I hope. Man, this is hard to write. My mind keeps flying ahead to the things I want to do, and I feel like the actual act of writing is bogging down my creativity. Also, copying this from google docs formats it kinda funny, and I'm just too lazy to fix everything. Sorry if it looks weird!


	9. Chapter 9

Anders walked through the door to Varric's suite to an unexpected shout of surprise and pleasure.  Hawke jumped up from the bench he'd been straddling while he ate and walked over to greet him with a warm hug.  
  
"It's been too long my friend," Hawke said cheerfully, causing Anders to suppress a shiver as the other man's breath brushed against his neck.  He pulled back and squeezed Anders' shoulders affectionately for just a second before he turned to guide him back to the table with one hand still on his shoulder.  "Where have you been hiding?"  
  
Anders nodded a greeting to Varric and picked up a roll from the center of the table as he sat down next to Hawke.  “Oh for Andraste’s sake.  It’s only been since your nameday.”  He popped a piece of bread into his mouth.  He chewed for a moment and swallowed before he spoke again. "And you know where to find me."  
  
"Skulking around in the sewers, no doubt," Fenris growled from across the table.  He was glaring daggers at Anders, probably because of Hawke's happy greeting.    
  
"Oh come now," Anders said cheerfully.  "It's not that bad in Darktown."  
  
Fenris wrinkled his nose disdainfully.  "Close enough."  
  
"Oh I don't know," Varric chimed in from the head of the table.  "I think the constant danger of robbery, murder and chokedamp gives Darktown a charming ambiance that the sewers lack."  
  
"Maybe," Fenris said with a slightly amused twist of his lips.  "But the bouquet of vomit, shit, and corpses is the same.  And now it's ruining my appetite."  
  
Anders lifted his arm and sniffed himself.  He wrinkled his nose.  Fenris was right of course, but he wouldn't admit it out loud.  "Well I could use a bath," he said.  He kept his voice jovial because he knew it would irritate the elf.  "But otherwise I have no idea what you're talking about."  
  
"You don't notice it because your sense of smell is probably dead from living down there."  
  
Anders grinned cheekily.  "Are you sure it's me?  Maybe you stepped in something nasty, and you're too proud to go wash your feet.  Or you like the squishy feel between your toes."  He turned to Hawke to see him trying to hide an amused smile behind his hand.  "Better tell Bodhan to do a better job of cleaning up after Spark."  
  
When Hawke snorted in an attempt to abort his laughter, Fenris rolled his eyes and pushed his plate of unfinished eggs and potatoes away.    
  
"You going to finish that?"  
  
Fenris sneered at him.  "Not now."  
  
Anders pulled the plate across the table and eagerly scooped some eggs up with Fenris' spoon.  "No use letting it go to waste," he mumbled as he chewed.    
  
Hawke finally gave in and let out a full belly laugh, with Varric joining in.  Fenris' glare would have been foreboding if it weren't for the twinkle in his eyes, and the warmth that filled his features when his gaze flicked to Hawke.  Anders suppressed a sigh.  He hated those moments when he could see how much the elf loved the man.  It made him loathe him less, and a petty part of him wanted to always hate him.  
  
When the laughter died down talk shifted to politics.  Hawke was going to try for the Viscount seat.  As an Amell, he had a claim, and as the city's Champion, he had the favor of the people.  Only the "taint" of his magic was holding him back.  Anders had to shake his head at that.  As a warden, he knew what a true taint in the blood felt like.  
  
"You'll have to dress in nice suits and sweet talk the nobles' daughters you know," Varric pointed out to Hawke.  He cocked a thumb at Fenris.  "Broody over here might get jealous."  
  
Fenris grunted and buried his nose in his tankard, but didn't otherwise object.  Everyone knew his opinion about mages in power, but he'd been surprisingly accepting of Hawke's decision.    
  
Anders grinned wickedly and joined in on the teasing.  It was difficult not to push the elf's buttons, but he steered away from making him truly angry this time.  "You could put him in a dress and bring him along, Hawke.  He's pretty enough to pass as your wife."  He paused to snicker when Fenris choked on his drink.  "You'll have to get him to wear shoes though.  And do something about his ears, since those snobs probably won't appreciate an elf in their exalted midst.  A bonnet, maybe?"  
  
Varric brightened.  "A bonnet!  You could start a new fashion trend, Broody!"  
  
If looks could kill, Anders would be a greasy smear against the wall behind him. Fenris wiped the ale from his lips with the back of his hand.  He opened his mouth to snarl a reply, but Hawke spoke first.  "The dress might be pretty, but I'm partial to his ears.  No hiding them."  
  
Fenris' glare faded and he flushed bright red, all the way to the tips of said ears.  He gave Hawke a secret smile that the other man returned warmly.  Anders wanted to make loud audible gag sounds to break the moment, but he resisted.  Instead he swallowed the lump in his throat, and ignoring the burning jealousy in his chest changed the subject.  "Varric my friend, I find myself in need of some of those Deep Roads funds you're saving for me."  
  
"You're not planning on doing something silly with it again are you?"  Varric asked him suspiciously.  "No more donating it to hopeless causes?"  
  
Justice stirred unhappily at that, so Anders' smile felt stiff when he answered.  "Not this time, no.  I just need a room at the Hanged man for a few weeks."  When Hawke turned concerned whiskey brown eyes on him, Anders felt goose bumps rise up over his arms and he was glad for the concealing sleeves of his coat.  
  
"What's going on?"  Hawke asked.  
  
Anders wasn't really sure how much he wanted to tell him.  Hawke would probably insist on helping him, would probably try talking him into staying at his estate until the Templar threat blew over.  He did _not_ want to live that close to temptation.  Even if Fenris had his own estate, the elf spent equal time at Hawke's, and being in close quarters with the grumpy elf and the man they both loved would probably lead to outright violence.    
  
He was saved from answering by a commotion downstairs.  Fenris got up and walked over to the door to investigate.  He leaned through the door and listened for a moment.   
  
"Fire in the foundry," he said after a moment.  He turned worried eyes back to them.  "An accident caused by a drunken worker it sounds like."  
  
Both mages jumped up at the same time.  If the fire was still going, they could help.  And there would probably be a need for healers.  Hawke grabbed his staff, and led the way down to the common room.  He elbowed his way through the crowd surrounding the slightly singed looking messenger and grabbed him by the arm.  "How bad is it?"  He demanded.  
  
The man nearly swallowed his tongue when he realized who Hawke was, but a jiggle of his arm from the impatient Champion had him speaking.  "Very bad, the fire has spread to the scaffolding outside.  People're trapped inside!"  
  
Hawke let him go and headed for the door without another word.  The crowd of people parted for him easily this time and they were able to get outside quickly.  A fire in Lowtown was bad.  The city was mostly made of stone, but wooden huts and scaffolds lined the streets.  If the scaffolds caught fire, it could easily spread into the open windows of the stone buildings and cause more damage.  Smoke was already spreading through the streets of Lowtown, and they could hear the shouts of panic coming from the direction of the foundry.  
  
"Do you have a plan Hawke, or are we just getting some exercise here?"  Varric panted as he tried to keep up with the longer strides of his taller companions.  
  
"Put out the fire, and heal the wounded," Anders answered for him.  They had just come around the corner and a warehouse was already burning.  They still had a few blocks to go to get to the foundry.  The fire was spreading quickly.  Citizens were rushing to form bucket brigades but there was no organization.  
  
The two mages came to a stop and in tandem raised their hands.  Anders recognized the spell the other man was whispering.  He was going to pull the heat out of the flames so they wouldn't continue to spread.  Weaving his hands, Anders gathered water from the surrounding air and with a wordless grunt pushed it into the nearest flames.  His lips moved silently in the spell that would turn it to ice, focusing through the crystal, he pulled power from the Fade as he felt his own reserves draining.  Justice put his own will behind the spell, helping him spread it further.    
  
It took several minutes but between the two of them they had the fire in that building out.  Varric and Fenris had begun organizing the people into rescue crews to go into the desiccated buildings to looks for survivors who might have gotten trapped inside.  There were several, and one woman was burned badly enough that Anders worried that he wouldn't be able to save her.  As it was, he brought her back from the brink but his heart wrenched because he knew he couldn't spare the time or mana to clean up the scars.    
  
"I'm sorry," he whispered to her just before he cut off the spell and ran over to where Hawke was already working to put out the flames in the next building over.  
  
"This isn't going to work!" Hawke shouted.  "There is too much for just the two of us!"  
  
Throwing his power into another ice spell, Anders nodded even though Hawke probably couldn't see him through the smoke.  There were several more fires along the street, and there would be so many wounded.    
  
"That shouldn't be a problem for much longer," Fenris shouted from nearby.  "I just saw your brother with a patrol.  He sent one of them back to the Gallows for help."  
  
Hawke's head whipped around to look at Fenris, and then he turned his piercing gaze on Anders.  His spell only faltered for a moment.  "You have to get out of here," he shouted.  
  
"Are you mad?" Anders called back.  "I'm needed here!"  
  
"This place is going to be crawling with Templars in a few minutes," Hawke argued.  He lowered his arms as the last few licks of flame died out and stepped out of the way so a rescue crew could get inside.  He grabbed Anders by the upper arm, squeezing hard to get his point across.  "They will see you casting and it'll be a one way trip to the gallows for you."  
  
Anders shook his head firmly.  "There will be mages everywhere. I will blend in."  
  
"Oh, really?" Hawke asked.  He flicked his fingers through the feathers on Anders' coat.  "You are not quite as well dressed as a circle mage my friend. You'll stick out like a sore thumb."  
  
"Hawke, these people need me.  I am a healer-"  
  
"So am I.  And there will be healers coming with the circle mages too,” Hawke said calmly.  “I can’t have you here.  I’ll be distracted with protecting you from Templars.”  
  
Anders ground his teeth for a moment, and then tried one more time.  “I am _not_ afraid of Templars,” he grumbled, oblivious of the way his voice had dropped into a rumbling timber.  The edges of his vision took on a blue tinge.   _“They will not take us.”_  
  
“Gabe,” Fenris said warningly.  He’d moved closer to Hawke’s side, and his tattoos glowed white-blue as he activated them.    
  
Hawke didn’t acknowledge Fenris.  Instead he lifted his free hand and cupped Anders’ cheek.  He rubbed his callused thumb over one sharp cheekbone, making the taller mage relax under his touch.  “There is no need for Justice right now, my friend.  Just caution.”  
  
Anders blinked in surprise and the blue faded from his eyes.  He took a deep breath.  “I’m sorry,” he said.  “You’re right.  And the foundry is right above...” he paused, not wanting to remind Hawke of his mother’s death.  “Above Quentin’s old hideout.  It leads into the Undercity.  I should make sure the fires haven’t spread down there too.”  
  
Hawke only flinched slightly at the name, but he smiled and nodded.  “Good idea.”  He gently squeezed Anders’ cheek one more time before letting his hand drop back down to his shoulder.  He looked over his shoulder at Fenris.  “Where’s Carver?  I need to talk to him.”  
  
Fenris had been glowering at Anders, but his expression softened when he turned his mossy green eyes up to Hawke’s.  “He isn’t here.  He wanted to stay and help, but one of the Templars with him insisted that they needed to finish their business in Darktown.”  
  
“Andraste’s tits,” Anders groaned.  “That’s why I was going to stay at the Hanged Man for a while.  Carver warned me last night there would be Templar patrols.”  
Hawke nodded at him once and turned to Fenris again.  “I want you to go with him.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“No!”  
  
Hawke rolled his eyes at their outbursts.  “Don’t argue with me.  I’ll win.”  
  
Anders knew it was true, but he couldn’t resist one last protest.  “I don’t need him,” he grumbled weakly.  The amused glance Hawke gave him made him feel like a twelve year old and he dropped his chin slightly, conceding his defeat.  
  
Fenris however wasn’t so easily swayed.  “You heard him.  He doesn’t need me.  I belong at your side, Gabe.”  
  
Varric came running up to them just then.  “I hate to break up this little party,” he huffed as he tried to catch his breath.  “The fire is spreading the other direction now.”  
  
Hawke looked in the direction of the foundry, then back at Fenris.  “Please, love.  I’ll be fine.  Meredith can’t arrest me without good cause.  Saving the city from a fire is going to be another point in my favor.”  
  
Fenris looked so torn that Anders almost felt sorry for him.  In the end, the elf gave in though, just like Hawke had predicted he would.  He jerked his chin in a stiff nod, then without another word spun on a bare heel and started jogging towards the nearest entrance to Darktown.    
  
“You’re going to pay for that, Hawke,” Varric said with a rusty chuckle.  He turned his gaze up to Anders.  “You better make it worth his sacrifice, Blondie.  Stay safe.”  
  
“You too,” Anders said with a weak smile for the dwarf.  He turned to meet Hawke’s whiskey eyes.  “If anything happens to you.... If the Templars...”  
  
“Blow a hole in the Gallows and come get me,” Hawke said with a wink.  He gave Anders’ shoulder one last squeeze and a wistful look after Fenris then he turned to jog towards the next fire.    
  
Knowing that if he didn’t hurry, Fenris would come back for him - angry, which was best to be avoided - Anders turned and ran to catch up with the elf.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: Child abuse. Mostly implied, but I feel the warning is necessary.
> 
> Also, I have a beta now! Many thanks to Hot elf. I was so nervous to ask someone to help me, but she's wonderful!

Ava groaned weakly as she rolled over onto her stomach and pushed herself up onto her hands.   She worked her tongue, trying to get enough moisture into her mouth to wash away the taste of dried blood where her teeth had cut the inside of her cheek.   It hurt because her face was swollen, but it just blended in with the rest of her aches and pains.   Her uncle must have kicked her after he knocked her out with his ham-sized fist.   The bruises she'd received during her struggle with the street thugs the night before had been healed when Anders had rescued her, so she knew the pains were from more recent punishments.  
  
She turned her head towards where the bucket of water was near the hearth and she hoped it wasn't empty.   It was so dark in the shack that it took her a moment to realize that she couldn't see it very well because her eye was also swollen almost shut.   She sighed as she crawled off the little pallet of ragged blankets she used as a bed towards the bucket.   There was still a small amount of water and she scooped it up in her hand and drank thirstily.   The coppery taste didn't leave her mouth though, and when she probed the cut with the tip of her tongue, she realized it was still bleeding sluggishly.  
  
Her uncle had been livid when she came home in the morning.   She had hoped he would have been off to work already, but apparently he hadn't come home until extra late himself.   He'd been passed out drunk, and she'd needed to wake him.   Still drunk, groggy, and angry about being late for work, he'd taken it out on her.   It wasn't the first time he had slapped her around, but it was the first time he'd ever struck her with a closed fist.   She hadn't even had time to think of defending herself before pain and blackness exploded in her head.     
  
Bewilderment and hurt filled her chest.   Why couldn't she please him?  She tried so hard to be a good charge for him.   And she would have been home last night if she hadn't been attacked.   Tears leaked down her cheeks.   "I'm sorry uncle," she whispered.   "I'll be better."  
  
 _You don't exist to please him._  
  
Ava's head jerked up at the familiar voice.   "Anders?"  
  
 _You didn't deserve it._  
  
This time the voice sounded like her mother.   Ava turned her head to look around.   The fire had gone out so all she could see were blurry shadows.   It was always pitch black in this part of Darktown, and Uncle couldn't always afford fuel for the fire or candles, so she had learned the layout of the shack in the unnatural darkness.   There was no one else in there with her.   "Who's there?"  
  
 _I am your friend._  Her father's voice.  
  
"Why can't I see you?" Ava asked nervously.   "Where are you?"  
  
 _Here_.

 

Her own voice this time, right near her shoulder which caused her to jump.   She turned and she could see her own face despite the darkness, as if she were looking in at her reflection in a puddle, but not all wavy because of ripples.   Her eyes were funny though.   Dark.   So dark, the rest of the room seemed bright in comparison.

  
The other Ava reached up and touched her face, and Ava could feel the ghost of fingers on her own cheek, over the bruise.   She flinched and Other Ava pulled her fingers away quickly.    _I'm sorry._  
  
This time the voice was different.   Like all the voices of her loved ones melted into one.   "You're the one who helped me last night," Ava said in surprise.  
  
Other Ava smiled.    _You remember me._  
  
Ava shivered.   This didn't feel right, but the ache in her head made it hard to concentrate.   "How come your mouth doesn't move when you talk?”   Ava asked.   It hurt her mouth to speak, and she could taste blood filling her mouth again.   She winced and reached up to gingerly cup her cheek.   "Why do you look like me?"  
  
Other Ava looked down at herself.    _I like to._  
  
Ava shifted warily.   Suddenly all her mother's warnings about demons filled her mind.   She scooted away from the dark eyed girl before her.   "What are you?"  
  
It frowned sadly.    _I'm your friend._  
  
"Are you a demon?" Ava whispered.  
  
 _Please don't be afraid of me._ The apparition’s dark eyes filled with tears.  
  
That wasn't an answer, and her mother had warned her that was a bad sign.   "Go away," Ava whispered.     
  
Its face crumbled, and it let out a silent sob.    _Okay,_ it said wordlessly.    _I will go away.   But if you ever need me....  don't forget me._  
  
Ava blinked and she was alone, the darkness had returned again, and she was no longer able to see.   She twisted around, trying to see in the pitch black.   She raised a hand and tried to summon a tiny flame to light the interior.   A burning pain rippled through her senses and she let go of her power with a yelp and cupped her hands over her temples.   Her head felt as raw as the inside of her cheek.     
  
In the brief flash of light she had managed to conjure she had seen that the Other Ava was gone.   She felt surprisingly lonely, and she wished she could go see Anders.   Being with him felt so much like being home.   And he would fix her pains.   She liked the feel of his magic.   It was warm and gentle like his voice.  
  
Ava reached up and carefully touched her sore cheek.  Anders had told her he'd be gone for a few weeks, but she could still get into the clinic.   He wouldn't mind if she took a healing potion would he?  No, she decided.   He didn't like to see anyone suffer.  She looked around the dark shack again.   She wanted to get out of there too.   She was still a little unsettled by what had just happened.     
  
Ava pushed herself up to her feet and made her way carefully to the door.   Even the dimness of Darktown was brighter than the shack, and she winced.   Her head really hurt.   It didn't take her very long to get to the clinic despite the fact that it was all the way across Darktown.   She knew all the short cuts.   And getting in was easy too because her brother had taught her to pick locks, and the ones on the clinic were not very good.   But no one would ever break in.   People didn't want to make the healer mad.   Everyone appreciated his generosity.  
  
Once inside she quickly went to the cabinet where he kept his potions.   She looked at all the different colored vials, suddenly worried.   She didn't know for sure which one was right.   They were labeled, and she could read the words, but she didn't know what they meant.   One of the shelves held vials of red liquid, and she was pretty sure that was the right one.   She grabbed one and pulled the cork.   The bitter sweat smell that wafted out was definitely right.   She wrinkled her nose, for a minute she wasn't sure if she wanted to drink it.   A fresh throb of pain washed through her face and she made her choice.   She pinched her nose shut in preparation to swallow the disgusting tasting fluid.  
  
A loud banging caused Ava to jump, and drop the vial with a clatter and a splash as it spilled onto her toes.   The door to the clinic rattled under the assault from outside.   "Open up," came a deep voice.   "Templar business!"  
  
Ava's breath hitched.   Templars!  She whipped her head around looking for a place to hide.   Most of the clinic was barren, with only this cabinet at the back and tables throughout the room for patients.   She was too big to hide in the cabinet, and they would surely search it.   A loud bang against the door startled her into motion and she scrambled under the nearest table.  
  
The voice that spoke next was familiar.  “No need to break it down.”   The doorknob turned and the door was pushed open by the dark haired Templar that had visited Anders last night.   "See?  Unlocked."  
  
Ava clenched her teeth and fists angrily as he entered the clinic followed by an older man also wearing armor emblazoned with Andraste's flaming sword.   He had led another Templar straight to the clinic.   Daylight from the open cliffside poured in through the open door, almost touching her knees and she forced herself to hold still so their eyes wouldn't be attracted by the movement.   Keeping still and unnoticed was a skill she had become very good at since moving in with her uncle.  
  
The two men left the door open wide for light as they began exploring the clinic.   They had brought a torch with them, and the older man lit one of the braziers for more light.   Ava gulped and held a hand over her mouth to stifle the sound of her breathing.     
  
"Looks abandoned," the younger Templar said.   Ava tried to remember what Anders had called him, but she'd been asleep for the beginning of their conversation.   He had bright blue eyes that reminded her of a dress she'd seen a lady wearing that time she'd visited Hightown.     
  
"Hmph," the other man responded sourly.   "Look closer boy.   There isn't any dust in here.”   He rubbed the tip of his finger over a work bench and held it up for Blue Eyes to see.     
  
Blue Eyes shrugged.   "Well, there isn't anyone here, any way you look at it."  
  
"Maybe he was tipped off _,"_ Sour Face growled.   He gave Blue Eyes a suspicious stare.     
  
 _"_ Are you accusing me of something?"  
  
"Do I need to, mage-lover?"  
  
The men faced each other aggressively, completely absorbed in each other as they continued to argue.  They stood right where they could see her if either bothered to look down.   She had to get out of there, and this was her best chance.   She scooted slowly backwards.   Their argument hid the scrape of her bare feet against the sandy floor.   When she was out from under the table she carefully stood and peeked over the edge.   They were definitely not paying attention to anything but each other.   She started inching sideways.  If she was careful...  
  
She was so focused on them that she didn't notice the bucket near her feet and she stumbled over it.   She grunted as fresh scrapes and bruises joined the existing ones.   Her head jerked up and she stared up at the two Templars.   For a moment an image of them writhing on the floor screaming flashed through her mind, and a voice - _I can help you escape -_ whispered of possibilities.   It was tempting, but she knew missing Templars would only attract more.     
  
Instead, she scrambled to her feet and bolted for the door.


	11. Chapter 11

Carver ground his teeth.  Mage-lover was a common insult laid on his head.  And it bothered him, although not for the reason it was meant to.   _There is nothing wrong with caring about_ _mages_ , he wanted to shout.  But he didn't let the thought linger.  For Templars like Karras, mages were lower than animals.  "Look," he said instead.  "The man was fall over drunk.  He could have been seeing things.  This place is obviously empty."  
  
The suspicion did not fade from the older Templar's eyes.   "You seem very reluctant to do a thorough search.   What are you hiding?"  
  
 _Oh, only the location of a hidden mage and the entrance to the Hawke estate practically next door to the clinic_.   Knowing how close they were to it set his teeth on edge.   The last thing he needed was for people to suspect Gabe was harboring apostates.   He was pretty sure that would mean the end of Meredith's tolerance for his freedom.  "Nothing," Carver answered in a clipped voice.   "I just think we're wasting time here."  
  
"My my, you’re in such a hurry.  Hoping for some free time to go visit your little elf wench?"     
  
Carver's heart stopped.   "I-I don't know wha-"  
  
Karras waved a dismissive hand. "Oh don't even try.   We all know you Hawkes are partial to knife ears," he sneered.   "She must be a tasty little bit to risk sneaking around with.   How much is she costing you?  Maybe I will give her a go myself if the rate is good."  
  
Carver clenched his fists.    _Over my dead body_!  "Why would you want an elf?  You seem to prefer little boys," he growled after a moment.  
  
Karras' grin made Carver's stomach roil with disgust.   "Been talking to Alain, have you?  You'll notice that boy isn't much different from an elf.   Smooth, hairless, and soft.   And knows when to give it up for his betters."

  
"I won't let that continue."  
  
Karras snorted in amusement.   "Well he's getting a bit old for my tastes anyway.   You can have him now, mage-lover.   He makes an excellent pet."  
  
Carver's temper snapped.   "You sick bastard-"  
  
A rattle caught their attention, causing them both to jerk their heads around.  Carver's heart sank when he saw Ava on the floor.  She must have been trying to sneak towards the open door and tripped over the bucket that was now tangled with her feet.  She kicked it free and pushed herself up to her feet.  In a blink, she was headed for the door.  
  
"After her!"  Karras shouted.  His armor clanged loudly as he started his pursuit.    
  
Carver had no choice but to follow.  When Ava's mother had told them about the girl, they had one of the artistic mages draw her likeness from a description.  It was very good, and the livid bruise on her face - _just where had that come from? -_ probably wouldn't be enough to disguise her.  He sent up a prayer to the Maker that she was a very fast runner as he chased after her.    
  
She was fast, but for some reason the streets of Darktown were crowded.  People seemed to be panicked and trying to get out of the dim confines of the Undercity.  Ava was darting through the small open spaces that only a small child could fit through.  Karras was resorting to shoving people roughly out of his way, and Carver followed in his wake, shouting apologies the other Templar would never think to give.  
  
The air was starting to grow thick and smoky, and Carver came to a stop.  Suddenly it clicked. The panicked stream of people all moving away from the tunnels under the foundry.    _Of course!  The fire,_ he thought grimly.  It must have spread downwards into Darktown.  He had run into Fenris as he and Gabe were helping put it out in Lowtown, but because Karras was in such a hurry to find apostates he hadn't really been able to get a lot of details.  Somehow it must have spread down through the endless labyrinth under the ancient city and found its way into Kirkwall’s Undercity.  
  
He did a quick examination of the mental map he'd created when he was a smuggler.  Ava was headed straight towards the fire.  "Shit," he hissed as he broke back into a run.    
  
The streets were clearer now, although the smoke was thicker.  He was able to catch up with Karras easily due to his longer legs giving him more speed.  Ava was just ahead of them, and Carver could see the bright orange of flames in the direction she was running.  The little idiot wasn't stopping though, slowing down only slightly when she realized the danger before her.  
  
There was a rumble as some of the support beams burned through and the ceiling began to crack.  That brought Ava to a halt.  She stared up uncertainly, and took a cautious step backward before turning to face them.  The way her shoulders were hunched, and the quick swallow she took made him slow down cautiously.  She looked just like a cornered animal.  Would she lash out?  
  
Carver and Karras also stopped.  The older Templar pulled his sword making Ava's eyes widen in surprise.  She stumbled backwards several steps as he advanced on her.  
  
"What in the void are you doing?"  Carver demanded, grabbing Karras by the arm to hold him back.  "She's just a little girl!"  
  
"I'm not taking any chances," Karras said with a sneer.  He suddenly sprang forward and wrapped his fingers around Ava's upper arm and jerked her close with a triumphant shout.  "Alright, you little sewer rat.  Let's get you back to the Gallows."  
  
Ava struggled like a stray cat.  She kicked and punched, and probably would have bitten Karras if he weren't covered in protective armor.  "Let me go!  I don't know nothing!"  
  
Carver's mind raced.  Maybe he could still salvage this.  "Why the Gallows?  Let's just get her somewhere safe and question her."  
  
Karras gave a snort of disgust.  He grabbed Ava's jaw, making her wince as his fingers dug into the bruise on her face.  "Look at her.  She bears a remarkable resemblance to one of the posters in the barracks.  Looks just like her mother in fact."  He chuckled evilly.  "Trust me, that is a face I would recognize."  
  
Ava had gone still at the mention of her mother.  She stared up at Karras with wide, terrified eyes.  When she spoke, it was too quiet for Carver to hear over the flames, but he saw her lips move.  "You know my momma?"  
  
Karras bared his teeth in a predatory grin, causing Ava to flinch.  "Gotcha."  
  
Carver's heart sank.  There was no way he could get her out of this.  Anders was going to be pissed. He just hoped the healer's spirit passenger didn't decide to flay him alive.  His sigh turned into a ragged cough, and he felt the sweat on his brow dry in the heat of the nearby flames. "Let's get out of here before we roast!"  
  
Karras gave a curt nod and with a painful jerk, pulled Ava with him as he turned to go back the way they'd come.    
  
Carver also turned.  The flames seemed to have stopped spreading in their direction due to lack of fuel, but they were definitely still in a dangerous place.  As if to mock him for the thought, there was another rumble in the stone around them.  A loud crack brought his head up.  "Look out!"  Carver shouted, even as he knew it would do no good.  He leaped forward just as the ceiling began to collapse.  
  
"No!"  Ava shouted from behind him, and then there was a roar of stone clattering to the floor.  Something smashed against his shoulder, knocking him first to his hands and knees, then to his stomach, causing him to scrape his face against the dirt floor.  
  
He coughed to clear the smoke and rock dust from his lungs as he rolled onto his side and looked above him. Rocks hovered just inches above him, glowing slightly from the spell shield holding them back from crushing him. He turned his head and saw Karras down on his knees, the bubble of the shield just big enough for him to use his elbows to drag himself on his stomach towards where Carver was. Behind him, Ava was slumped on the ground, her eyes half lidded, her whole body shaking as she struggled to hold the shield.  
  
Karras put a gauntleted hand against Carver’s face and shoved. “Back up you fool. We need to get out of this before it crushes us.”  
  
“What about the girl?” Carver grunted as he began to crawl backwards towards the opening in the debris behind him.  
  
“She’ll run out of energy soon, and I plan on getting out of this first.”  
  
By this time Carver was free of the rock pile, and was helping pull Karras out. “We need to get her out.”  
  
Karras shrugged. “Who cares?  If she’s crushed, it’s one less mouth to feed in the Gallows.”    
  
Carver gave Karras a disgusted look. He dropped down in his knees to look into the little cave surrounding Ava. He got down on his belly and began to crawl back in. Karras planted a boot on the back of his thigh, pinning him in place.  
  
“What are you doing?” Karras demanded. “You’ll get yourself killed.”  
  
“She saved your life,” Carver growled. “The least we can do is return the favor!”  
  
Karras rolled his eyes. “If she hadn’t run from us, my life wouldn’t have been endangered.”  But he removed his foot and allowed Carver to continue.  
  
 _And that’s what it all boils down to, isn’t it?_ Carver thought as he crept closer to where Ava was crouched **.** She had run away because she’d been faced with Templars searching for apostates. Due to Meredith’s zero tolerance for sheltering mages, most of Kirkwall feared them. But of course Karras had to chase her, and now the current situation was her fault.   Blame the mages, never blame the circumstances. He’d better never express these thoughts out loud to his brother. The blighter might hug him, and that would just be awkward.  
  
When he reached Ava, she lifted her head to stare at him with frightened dilated eyes. She was shuddering so badly, that he was surprised she hadn’t collapsed completely yet. Blood and drool dripped out of her mouth and she was panting quickly. He reached out and put his hand over hers, and his heart twisted when she flinched. “Come on,” he coaxed quietly. “Let’s get you out of this.”  
  
“You...   you’ll take me to the Gallows,” she mumbled with an almost imperceptible shake of her head.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Carver said, and he meant it. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”  
  
Ava stared at him, and he felt pierced, as if she saw things about him that he didn’t really want anyone to know. “What will happen to me?” she asked.  
  
Carver suppressed a frustrated sigh. Now was not the perfect time to comfort a scared child, but if he broke her concentration by scaring her, they’d both be crushed. He just had to get through to her before she ran out of mana. “They’ll heal you and feed you, and you’ll have a warm bed to sleep in.”  She didn’t look too impressed. He grasped for more reassuring things to say because the shield was dimming and they were running out of time. He wasn’t surprised that his voice was shaking slightly when he spoke.  “And then they’ll start teaching you. Would you like to learn to read?”  
  
“Anders was teaching me,” Ava answered. Her breath was coming faster. She couldn’t possibly hold the shield for much longer.  
  
Carver didn’t know what to say to that. Anders had taken her under his wing and was giving her what she needed most. The memory of his own father teaching him and Bethany to read while Gabe devoured the thicker, more complex books Malcolm brought home flickered through his head. _Blight take him, I don’t_ want _to like that bloody mage._  
  
Only seconds had passed, but while he was grasping for an answer, she spoke again. “Can I see my mother?” she asked softly.  
  
It took every ounce of willpower for Carver to not recoil at the idea. Her mother was Tranquil. How would she take that?  But he grasped at the question as the only tool he could use to get them out of this groaning cave of debris. “Maybe...   not right away,” he said hesitantly. “But if you’re well behaved...” Maker hoped he wasn’t lying to her.  
  
Ava nodded slowly and to Carver’s relief she inched toward him. He whispered instructions and she crawled up onto his back and wrapped her arms around his neck, then he whispered encouragement while he carefully backed out of the rubble. His head just barely cleared the small entrance when the girl whimpered and her arms went slack. The dim light of the spell shield blinked out and the small cave collapsed.  
  
Carver maneuvered himself out until Ava slipped off his back into a slack pile of skinny limbs on the ground. He lifted her gently into his arms as he stood.  She was out cold, probably from casting a spell that was too much for her to handle.  
  
"Let's get the little bitch back to the Gallows," Karras growled.  
  
Carver kept his glare hidden by looking straight ahead as he passed the other templar.  He found himself hugging Ava closer to his chest as his strides carried him away from the collapsed tunnel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> May not update this for a while. Don't worry! It's still on my to do list. I'm way to proud of where this is going to stop. But I had an idea for the Dragon Age Big Bang event, and so I'm going to be working on that as well.


	12. Chapter 12

It took longer than expected to get into Darktown.  Many of the entrances close to where Anders had left Hawke were blocked off due to the fire.  He finally spent precious energy putting out flames near one of them.  Fenris had protested, worried about being caught by Templars, but they hadn't arrived yet.  Part of his mind had begun calculating how he could use this disaster to free some of the mages.    
  
 _They should rebel against their oppressors.  Now is the perfect opportunity to rise up and take their freedom._  
  
 _No.  There will be too many Templars.  I do not wish to risk so many lives._ He knew that a fight like that would be bloody.  There would be casualties, and in a city as crowded as Kirkwall, many bystanders could also lose their lives in the storm of magic and battle.   _And I'd have to convince them to rebel.  The Templars would probably bring the meekest of the mages.  It would be easier to keep them in line._  
  
But he seethed with dissatisfaction over walking away from the situation.  His head pounded with a stress induced headache.  Fenris kept silent, but his brooding seemed much more intense than usual.  Truthfully, Anders was grateful for his company because he was just as upset about the situation, if for different reasons.  
  
"Misery loves company," Anders grumbled under his breath as they made their way quickly toward the fire.    
  
"Excuse me?” Fenris demanded.  
  
Anders winced.  He always forgot about the elf’s unusually perceptive ears.  "I'm sorry you had to come down here with me," he said bitterly.  "I'm sure it would be a relief to you if I were caught by Templars."  
  
Fenris glared at him but as he opened his mouth to reply the ground beneath their feet shook.  The tremor was enough to make them both lose their footing, and they only managed to stay upright by catching each other.  There was a roar of sound, and a plume of smoke and rock dust shot out of a tunnel opening ahead of them.    
  
"What the-?" Anders started, but it was obvious what had happened.  "Tunnel collapse!" He cried urgently.  He still held Fenris' shoulder, and he gave it a slight shake to emphasize is next words.  "We need to see if there's anyone trapped in there."  
  
He started to move forward, but Fenris held him back.  "It's too dangerous," the elf said.  "That may have destabilized more of the ceiling,"  
  
Anders sighed in exasperation.  "I can't just walk away without making sure I can't help."  
  
"It may be necessary this time, mage," Fenris growled.    
  
"Look, I know you're eager to obey Hawke's orders."  The glare Fenris gave him for that jab caused him a twinge of guilt for baiting the ex-slave about his confusion over his relationship with Hawke, but the words were already out and he'd just have to apologize later.  "But I'm a healer.  Risking my life for others is what I do."  
  
"Fine," Fenris said after a tense moment.  He didn't waste anymore time with arguing, and turned to trot towards the tunnel that had collapsed.  When he got to it and went around the corner he came to an abrupt halt causing Anders to slam into his back.  Fenris didn't even budge, despite being the smaller man.    
  
"What-?"  
  
Fenris spun and pushed Anders back around the corner.  "Templars," he hissed.    
  
Anders didn't resist Fenris because suddenly his attention was focused on resisting the need to tear them to shreds.  It was difficult; because he didn't really have a good argument for Justice other than that they weren't an immediate threat.     
  
They hid behind some rubble just as the two Templars came around the corner.  He calmed slightly when he saw Carver in the lead.  At least until he realized the younger Hawke brother held a small body in his arms.  
  
  
When Anders saw the bruised and bloodied girl cradled in Carver's arms, his vision went red, then bright blue with rage.   He stood up, exposing himself to their sight if they bothered to turn in his direction.  Before he could move forward to destroy the Templars, strong hands that hummed with familiar music wrapped around his upper arms and jerked him back down, out of sight.     
  
Justice glared down at the white haired elf and jerked out of his grasp.   " _Do not interfere, or you will join them in their fate!"_ When he stood again to pursue the fiends, the elf warrior grabbed him again, and his rage changed focus.   " _How dare you impede Justice?!"_  
  
The elf ducked under the swing of his fist, and rammed his shoulder into Justice's stomach, knocking him back into the wall.   The spirit let out a rumbling growl and tried to wrap his arms around the smaller being in an effort to crush him, but music flared in his senses, distracting him, and he missed.   Sharp claws dug into his chest, pressing him closer to the stone at his back.  
  
"Don't be a fool!" The elf snarled at him, his whole body alight with the flaring music of lyrium.   "You cannot shred every Templar you see!"  
  
"Let me go or you'll share their fate," Justice growled.  
  
Fenris didn't loosen his grip.   "If you kill them, more will come."  
  
Justice thrust himself forward, his strength overpowering the elf easily.   "Let them.   I will dispense Justice to all of them."  He spun on a heel, his attention focused on the Templars.   His argument with the elf had let them gain distance, but they would not escape Justice this day.  
  
"You would kill Carver too?" Fenris called from behind him.   "I doubt Hawke would understand if you murdered his brother."  
  
The words slammed into Anders like a wallop mallet.   No, he couldn't do that to Hawke.   Justice struggled for dominance, causing him to drop his staff and fall to his knees.   He hunched over and wrapped his arms around his stomach as if he could physically restrain the spirit within.     
  
"But I can't let them take her," he said hoarsely.   A gauntleted hand gripped his shoulder, not to restrain him now, but to squeeze softly in support.   The surprise Anders felt at the gesture was enough to clear his mind of the rage if not the sorrow.   He took a deep breath and lifted his head.    The blue haze retreated from his vision, but the tears in his eyes blinded him.  
  
"Who is she?" Fenris asked as they watched the Templars turn a corner and leave their line of sight.     
  
"Someone I promised to take care of," Anders whispered.  
  
Fenris squeezed his shoulder again.   "I am sorry," he said simply.  
  
Anders gave a bitter laugh.   "What? No lectures about how mages belong in the Circle so they won't become power mad Magisters, out to enslave the whole of Thedas?"  As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them.   The hand left his shoulder, and he waited for an angry retort.  
  
When Fenris spoke, his words were clipped and angry, but not the diatribe Anders expected.   "Come, this tunnel is about to collapse, and there are bound to be people in need of healing."  When Anders looked up at him in surprise, Fenris rolled his eyes and held out his hand to help him to his feet.   "Isn't that what you do?" He said with a sneer.   "Help people?  Heal?"  
  
Anders gave a jerking nod, as he accepted Fenris' assistance.   A migraine was blooming behind his eyes as he argued with Justice, _with himself,_ over letting Ava go with the Templars.     
  
 _We cannot be idle in this matter!_  
  
 _We won't be,_ Anders promised himself.    _I will not break my promise to take care of her._ Distant screams caught his attention.   Ava was not in immediate danger, but due to the fire there were many people who were, and he could do something for them right now.   The tunnel they were in was completely blocked by the cave-in.   "Come," he said, his voice shaky, but his tone decisive.   "I know another way around."  
  
Fenris eyed him warily for a moment before he nodded briskly and gestured for Anders to lead the way.   He seemed to trust that the mage had control of himself now.    _I hope he's right._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still working on my Big Bang project, so updates will be slow. But someone *cough*foxghost*cough* advised that I should work on my Anders fic.


	13. Chapter 13

A dim blue glow surrounded his hands as he held them over the burned skin. The light flickered weakly, and he searched deeply inside himself for just a few more drops of power. 

Nothing happened.

Anders muttered a curse and closed his eyes and _pulled_ , but his exhaustion defeated his efforts. He could barely sense the Fade.

_Flesh is weak._

He wasn’t sure if the thought was his own, or that of the spirit sharing his body. The frustration Justice felt at having his power limited by the mortal realm was not so different from Anders’ feelings of helplessness when he saw how many more people needed his help.

 _I can’t stop yet_ , he told himself angrily. _There are too many that need me._ After a deep steadying breath he tried again, and this time the glow around his fingers brightened. The wounds beneath his hands began to heal. He didn’t expend extra energy on healing them fully; only enough to prevent the patient’s death, and lower the possibility of infection. The boy would carry scars for the rest of his life, but at least he would live. Minus an ear and an eye.

 _He may need to beg for a living_ , Anders thought bitterly. _Maybe I shouldn’t even bother._

But that was not his way. Once he was satisfied that he had done as much as possible to save the boy’s life, he turned in search of another patient. There were a handful of uninjured people helping those who didn’t need his power. Those they felt were beyond the help of normal herbs and poultices were easily identified by their injuries and the lack of volunteers around them. 

Anders glimpsed Gabe Hawke bent over one such patient near the clinic door. Once he’d been assured he was no longer needed in Lowtown, he’d immediately come in search of Anders and Fenris. The Champion was beginning to look as haggard as Anders felt. They both had extraordinary powers because of their spirit passengers, but between stopping the fires and clearing out rubble to find survivors they’d both worn themselves thin.

Merrill had taken over clearing rubble since she wasn’t able to heal, allowing Hawke to assist in the clinic. They had both been working nonstop for two days, and the flow of patients was just barely starting to slow down. The foundry fire spreading downwards had been devastating for the poorly maintained tunnels. Supporting beams were destroyed, and areas with major weakness in the stone were made worse by the heat. And the flames had eaten miles of tent cities built against the cavern walls. It was truly a disaster.

Hawke must have been too late in reaching his patient. He let out a curse of frustration and buried his face in his hands. 

As difficult as it was to see suffering with a spirit of Justice inside of him, Anders imagined it must be even worse for a spirit of Compassion. He wanted to comfort the other mage, but he couldn’t stop while others needed him so badly. With a shake of his head he turned to find his next patient, but a wave of dizziness washed through him, and he crumpled down to his knees between the pallets.

A gentle hand came down on his shoulder. The gruff voice that accompanied it surprised Anders, both because of who it was, and the unexpected concern it carried. 

“You’re pushing yourself too hard,” Fenris said quietly. He squatted down next to Anders and examined him with worried green eyes. “If you hurt yourself, you will be of no use to anyone else.”

He was right, and Anders knew it. But… “I can’t just leave them,” he argued.

Fenris sighed and rolled his eyes toward Hawke who was bent over a young woman and the badly burned body of her child. From the look on the dark haired mage’s face and the woman’s reaction, it was obvious that the child was already beyond help. Hawke brushed her hair back from her face and pressed his forehead against hers in a moment of silent comfort before he moved to the next person in the triage. “Stubborn,” Fenris grumbled under his breath. His green eyes flicked back to Anders, pinning him with a glare. “Both of you.”

A wry smile lifted the corner of Anders’ mouth. “I consider it a compliment to be likened to Hawke,” he replied. He managed a weak chuckle when Fenris snorted at him in irritation. “We can’t stop,” he continued. “There are so many who need us…”

“You are about to fall over,” Fenris scolded. “You need to stop and rest. Eat something, maybe take some lyrium.”

“I’m out,” Anders answered on a tired sigh. He glanced at the cupboard where kept his potions. When he and Fenris had started bringing the injured back to the clinic, he’d found the spilled vial in front of the open doors. He wondered if this was where Ava had been discovered. If so, he suspected she’d led them a merry chase through Darktown. It was quite a distance from the clinic to where he’d seen Carver carrying Ava away.

Self-hatred filled him at the memory of allowing her to be taken away. He should have fought for her. He wouldn’t have hurt Carver if the younger man had surrendered. Even as he told himself that, Anders knew that there would have been a possibility that he wouldn’t have been able to control his rage. That didn’t help relieve his guilt though.

Fenris followed his gaze to the cupboard and frowned in frustration, then he looked around at all the people still waiting for healing. Hawke and Anders had made a huge difference, but both mages had their limits. Anders could see from Fenris’ expression that the elf knew they were both almost there.

The stream of Tevinter curses would have made Anders smile under other circumstances, but right now he shared the sentiments, even if he didn’t understand all the words. Fenris’ eyes were intense with an unnamed emotion when he lifted his hand from Anders’ shoulder and placed it against the mage’s cheek instead. “Hold still,” Fenris growled.

Anders blinked in shock and would have pulled away from the elf’s touch despite the command, but the lines of lyrium against his face began to pulse. Fenris’ markings began to glow brightly enough that they could be seen through his clothing. Power and energy flowed into Anders as if he had just swallowed to contents of two vials of lyrium. His connection to the Fade strengthened, and his heart pounded in excitement. 

There was music in the pulse of Fenris’ tattoos, and Justice was suddenly attentive. Close to the surface, and curious. But once Fenris removed his hand the music ended abruptly. The mage found himself leaning forward, reluctant to let the contact end.

Fenris grimaced and the glow faded from his dusky skin. “Go back to work, mage,” he grumbled as he pushed himself back to his feet. “You are needed.”

“What was that?” Anders asked breathlessly as he also stood.

The scowl he received was probably intended to be intimidating, but Anders could see that Fenris was uncomfortable with the question. “That is my purpose,” he answered softly before turning away on a bare heel and stalking towards Hawke.

Distracted for a moment, Anders watched their exchange in fascination. Apparently Hawke knew what Fenris was offering, and he declined vehemently. He even went so far as to try and knock Fenris’ hands away when the elf reached for him. Fenris stubbornly grabbed Hawke’s wrists and activated his markings. In just a matter of seconds, Hawke’s healing aura began to strengthen. Anders hadn’t even realized how weak it had grown until he felt it surge through the room. There were moans of relief as minor wounds began to heal, and the pain began to fade for everyone in range of the aura’s effects.

It had never occurred to Anders that the markings were useful for more than giving Fenris increased strength, stamina, and the ability to reach through solid objects. Suddenly, things he’d said in the past about his old master made a lot more sense, and Anders felt a surge of sympathy. 

It obviously took a lot of out of Fenris. Anders could see the elf’s normally dark skin take on a grayish pallor. When Fenris wavered slightly on his feet Hawke quickly helped him to the edge of the room where he pushed Fenris down to sit against the wall. 

“We’ve got a few more what could use your help, healer,” a young woman said from next to him.

Anders followed the young woman to a man who had avoid burns, but instead had two crushed legs from a cave-in. He was unconscious, and blissfully unaware of how much pain he should be in, but Anders could sense that he was also barely holding onto the spark of life. He pulled from the new well of mana Fenris had given him, and got to work.

Anders had lost track of how many times he’d seen the light slanting in through the clinic doors change, but he was certain it had been at least a few days. Finally he stood to stretch his back and found that he wasn’t immediately needed for the next patient. Relief flooded through him. He was trembling from lack of food and sleep, and the huge amounts of power he had channeled since the fire. 

Fenris had offered his strange ability to Anders and Hawke twice more as they worked, but his third offer was currently being refused by his lover.

“Absolutely not,” Hawke ordered firmly. When Fenris reached for him anyway, he took a step back. “No,” he said again. “You’re exhausted and about to fall over.”

“We all are,” Anders agreed softly as he stepped over patients lying on makeshift pallets throughout the clinic to join Hawke and Fenris near the entrance to the clinic. “And no matter how much mana we have at this point, we need normal rest.”

Hawke looked around at the people in the clinic who needed rest and nourishment, and his face transformed with relief when he realized that the worst was over. “We’ve helped as many as we can,” he told Fenris. 

It was obvious from his expression that Fenris wanted to argue, but after he’d looked around himself, he conceded with a graceful tilt of his head. “As you say, Gabe.”

Anders watched jealously as Hawke wrapped his arms around Fenris in a hug. It wasn’t just because the man he loved was hugging someone else. A large parted of him craved physical comfort. How long had it been since anyone had touched him with affection?

Since the last time Ava had hugged him.

Fingers chapped from constant washing over the last few days reached up and touched the place on his cheek where Ava had kissed him the night before she’d been taken by Templars. Pain bloomed in his chest. He had been so busy taking care of the injured from Darktown that he hadn’t thought about her for – he did a quick calculation, digging through memories fuzzy from fatigue – at least three or four days. Was she okay? She was probably terrified. He hoped Carver had at least made an attempt to make the transition to Circle life comfortable for her.

He really wanted to hate Carver for his part in Ava’s capture, but Anders couldn’t be that dishonest with himself. The fault was his own. He shouldn’t have let her go home to her uncle. He had the means to take care of her with the gold from their expedition into the Deep Roads all those years ago. He should have provided her with warmer clothes, better food, a warm place to stay. 

He should have raised her as his own.

But what kind of life could he have given her? He would never be able to stop in his quest to change the fate of his fellow mages. If he were caught, who would take care of her then?

No matter from what angle he looked at it, he was destined to fail her.

“Anders?” Hawke asked, interrupting his thoughts. “Are you in there?”

He blinked at the dark haired mage, and then blinked a few more times when his vision began to swim. “Hm?”

“You went pretty far away there for a moment. Are you alright?” Hawke still held Fenris pressed against his chest, but he reached out a hand to squeeze Anders’ forearm gently. Fenris was resting his head on Hawke’s shoulder, but his mossy green eyes were watching Anders closely. His eyes seemed too knowing. Was he thinking of Ava’s capture, too?

 _No, I’m not alright_ , he thought bitterly. “Just tired,” he answered out loud. “And famished.”

“Come back to the estate with us,” Hawke offered. “Bodahn and Orana would be more than willing to stuff you with food until your seams pop.”

Anders shook his head and pulled his arm out of Hawke’s grasp. “That won’t be necessary. I’ve got some provisions here and I’m needed-”

Hawke rolled his eyes and wrapped his free arm around Anders to pull him close. The motion brought him face to face with Fenris who glared at him for invading his space, however unwillingly. Hawke ignored the sparks flying between the elf warrior and the healer and addressed the room. “Our healer has exhausted himself,” he said loud enough to be heard over the soft voices and occasional moan. “I’m going to make him get some rest. I’ll send down some more people to help.”

Lirene, who had appeared to offer her assistance at some point during the chaos straightened from where she was checking on a patient. “Aye, it’ll do you both some good,” she replied. “You’ve both worked yourselves hard enough for our sake. You deserve a break, and I think we can handle things from here.”

Anders opened his mouth to protest, but a quick squeeze from Hawke cut him off. He finally gave in. The most serious injuries had been healed with magic, and the people left in the clinic would be fine with the care of the volunteers wandering amidst the pallets. And he was truly exhausted. Kirkwall’s undercity had been hit hard by the fire and subsequent cave-ins. While the people of Lowtown had been taken care of by the Circle mages, Darktown had been completely ignored. There were too many warrens and tunnels where a stray mage could slip away, and the Templars wouldn’t risk allowing their charges down here to help the poorest scum of the city.

The people of Darktown only had Anders and Hawke to take care of them. It was a sign of just how tired he was that Justice only stirred sluggishly over the unfairness of letting people die in order to keep mages locked in their prison.

Hawke let go of him, making Anders keenly aware of the absence of his warmth. When the other mage turned to make his way out of the clinic, Anders turned back just to verify there really was nothing more that he could help with. Lirene made a shooing gesture at him, and he smiled sheepishly before following Hawke out of the clinic and to the secret entrance to the estate. 

The climb up from the basement to the secret passage in Hawke’s room was almost too much for him. Lack of sleep and proper food, not to mention draining his magic several times, left him light headed. For just a brief moment he understood why some mages might turn to blood magic to fuel their power.

His mind instantly recoiled at the thought, only to turn to Ava again. He’d witnessed her use of blood magic the night she’d been attacked by thugs. The more he thought about it, the more he wondered how she’d been able to use the hemorrhage spell. If her mother had known the spell, she could have used it against the Templars who had come to take her to the Gallows. But if she had decided to go with them willingly, what reason would they have had to make her tranquil?

The idea that Ava’s mother might have taught her to use blood magic was sickening. Anders did not want to believe the worst of a woman he’d never met, but the alternative was worse. Every mage was in danger of being approached by demons. Anders had many memories of terrifyingly tempting encounters with them. It was still a constant threat even after passing his Harrowing. Merging with Justice had finally brought a stop to the occasional unwanted visit, but he would still never let his guard down. 

Ava was a young mage on her own, with no mentor before Anders found her. Her mother had been her only teacher before that. She was a perfect target for a demon.

He was jolted from his thoughts when he walked into Fenris’ back. The elf grunted and glared at him over his shoulder while Hawke opened the door that led into his bedroom. “Sorry, Fenris,” he mumbled. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

The elf’s glare faded into a worried frown. “You need rest,” he rumbled softly, surprising Anders with the genuine concern in his tone.

“We all do,” Hawke added without looking back at them. The door swung open and he stepped through, followed closely by Fenris.

Anders shook off his surprise at Fenris’ concern – it had to have been his imagination – and moved to step through the door as well. In his exhaustion, he didn’t lift his foot quite high enough to clear the lip of the doorway and he tripped. With a yelp he fell into Fenris, and they both went tumbling in a tangle of limbs.

Hawke laughed. “If you boys want to put on a show, can you wait until I have more energy to enjoy it?”

Fenris had landed on his stomach, with Anders sprawled over his back. Luckily the elf had unslung his sword and carried it in his hand for most of their trip up from Darktown, or Anders might have ended up with its sharp edge slicing into some very uncomfortable areas. As it was, they were both lucky he hadn’t skewered himself on it in the fall since neither mage had the energy to heal him at the moment. Anders pushed himself up on his hands, and felt his groin tighten slightly as his hips ground against Fenris’ leather covered buttocks. Heat filled his cheeks and he scrambled the rest of the way to his feet.

The elf gave him a strange look, but didn’t complain. Hawke helped him to his feet, his grin tired but still in place. With a tug, he pulled Fenris into his arms for a hug and whispered something in a pointy ear that made the elf flush darkly.

Anders turned his eyes away from the intimate moment. He wondered if it would ever stop hurting to see them happy together. Memories of his single night with Hawke flashed through his mind, along with a healthy dose of disapproval from Justice. Guilt over imaging Hawke naked while he held his lover quickly followed. Because now was not the time for that. People were still suffering in his clinic. Ava was locked away with the other mages in the Gallows.

Pain bloomed in his temples and he rubbed the heels of his hands against his eyes until he saw stars. He remembered his first day in the Circle. He’d been terrified and lonely. He’d missed his parents despite hating them for letting him be taken. Ava’s mother was in the Gallows, but she was Tranquil. His last moments with Karl had been horrifying; he couldn’t quite imagine how difficult things would be for Ava.

Oh, Maker. What if they found out she did blood magic?

“Anders? Are you alright?”

He dropped his hands, but didn’t look up at Hawke. “No,” he answered dully. He could practically hear Hawke’s frown, and when he looked up to confirm it was there, he was able to manage a small smile. “Just tired. And starving. I hope you were right about Bodahn being willing to stuff me with food.”

Hawke’s whiskey eyes bore into him and Anders almost broke down and told him everything about Ava. He managed to stay silent though, mostly because he was truly too tired to talk about it. He always pulled Hawke into his problems, and seeing him with his arms around Fenris reminded him that the other mage deserved to be happy, and Anders couldn’t keep putting him in danger by asking for help.

Anders lifted a brow. “Unless you weren’t serious about feeding me?” he asked innocently.

Hawke eyed him for another few heartbeats before he snorted and turned to the door. “I’ll let him know you’re here,” he called over his shoulder. “Do you want food or a bath first?”

“Food!” Anders called after him. Hawke waved over his shoulder as he disappeared through the door. 

“You are not alright,” Fenris said.

Anders turned to find mossy green eyes drilling into him knowingly. “Nothing that a nap and a sandwich won’t fix,” he deflected.

If only it were true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if you got multiple notifications for this chapter. Something wasn't saving right.


	14. Chapter 14

“Keep stirring it, Ava, or it’s going to burn on the bottom.”

Ava ran back to the pot and grabbed the wooden spoon and stirred, careful to scrape the bottom so the contents wouldn’t get overcooked. She looked over her shoulder and received a proud smile from her mother.

“Thank you, darling,” her mother said cheerfully. She winked one pitch black eye and went back to kneading dough.

Ava turned her attention back to the pot. She couldn’t stop grinning, and the side of her face ached from smiling so wide. It felt so good to be home.

_“You don’t ever have to leave again.”_

That sounded nice. She’d been so lonely living in Darktown-

The thought cut off as her father and brother came through the door. Their black eyes sparkled with humor as they laughed together over some joke they would probably never share with Ava. Nevertheless she asked. “What’s so funny?”

“You’re too little to understand,” Liam teased. He came over and ruffled her hair, momentarily blinding her as the red strands fell into her eyes. Ava batted at him with her free hand, but he dodged easily.

Shadows swirled around the room, and a figure coalesced next to her. Other-Ava stood close, watching Ava’s family with a happy smile. _“This is nice,”_ it said in its strange many-voice. _“I like your family.”_

“Ava?”

The unexpected voice pulled Ava’s attention away from the shadowy figure next to her. A very familiar tall blonde man stood across the room looking around with a worried frown. Ava squealed happily and launched herself at him. “Anders!” she yelled happily. “You’re here!”

Anders wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug. He pressed a kiss against the top of her head and pulled back. He smiled at her so warmly she could feel the heat of it in the blue glow of his eyes on her face. “Ava,” he said softly. “Are you alright? Have they hurt you?”

She blinked at him in confusion. Twisting in his arms, she looked at her family. All three of them stared back at her with unblinking black eyes. “Why would they hurt me?” she asked curiously. “They are my family.”

When Anders closed his eyes, Ava missed the warmth of their blue glow. He looked pained and she didn’t understand why. “What’s wrong?” she asked worriedly.

The shadows around them began to swirl. She could sense colors in the darkness, although she could only describe any of them as black. The churning nothingness engulfed her family, but she could still sense them. Agitation radiated from the shadows around her, but she didn’t understand why. Were they upset that Anders was here?

The darkness seemed to flinch backwards when Anders opened his eyes and blue light bathed Ava’s face again. “They’re not your family, sweetheart.”

“What? Yes they are. I’ll introduce you to them.”

“Ava, we’re in the Fade,” Anders said in a low, urgent voice. He looked around at the rainbow darkness still swirling around them. “And I’m pretty sure we’re not alone.”

Anders immediately spoke again, but his voice was different. Strange and deep and old. _**“We are not alone,”**_ he said firmly. _**“It is not safe here.”**_

_Don’t listen to them, Ava,_ the many-voice whispered. _I would never hurt you. I just want to be with you._

Ava frowned and looked behind her in the shadows. The room was gone, her family gone. But Other-Ava crouched in the blackness, looking at her with pleading eyes. Pain lanced through her head and her cheek, which had only ached dully before. Now the whole side of her head throbbed, and she whimpered as she cupped her cheek with one hand. “I don’t understand… where… where did everyone go?”

Anders touched the back of the hand she held over her face and the pain faded.

 

((-Did you heal her?

-No, but she may have healed herself.

-But you said she’s suffering from burnout. Is that normal? She shouldn’t be able to do that, should she?))

 

Ava looked around for the source of the voices she’d just heard. Other-Ava and Anders didn’t seem to have noticed them. “Who’s there?” she asked warily.

Anders looked worried. “We’re in the Fade, Ava,” he said quietly. “Did your mother ever tell you about the Fade?”

The colorful shadows brightened and Ava’s mother knelt beside her. Her blue eyes were as worried as Anders’. _“You have to be careful, darling. You can’t believe what happens in your dreams.”_

“She’s right, Ava,” Anders agreed, bringing her attention back to him. “Dreams are different for mages.”

“Am I dreaming?” Ava asked shakily. Her eyes filled with tears. “But mama…”

The blue light from Anders’ eyes didn’t dim, although his expression seemed to. “She’s not really here,” he answered. The sympathy in his voice made Ava even sadder.

“But she is-” Ava insisted as she turned to point at her mother. But there was no one there. “Mama?” she called. Pulling away from Anders she turned in a circle, but all she could see now was the swirling back colors, and Other-Ava still crouched nearby. “You saw her, didn’t you?” she asked urgently.

_“Of course I did,”_ Other-Ava answered.

“Who are you talking to?” Anders asked. He stood and glared into the darkness. The blue light shining from his eyes made Other-Ava flinch when the glow passed over it.

_“Don’t tell him I’m here, Ava. Please.”_

Ava didn’t understand. Anders was her friend, and he was a good person. He wouldn’t hurt anyone. “But…” she trailed off, not sure what to do.

“Ava,” Anders urged, focusing the warmth of his gaze on her again. “Who else is here with us?”

_**“Demon.”** _

Ava jumped at the booming voice. “Who…?”

Anders let out an exasperated sigh. “Just a friend,” he answered vaguely. His eyes narrowed and he looked around again. “Ava, sweetheart, you need to wake up.”

But she was awake. Wasn’t she?

 

((-Can’t you wake her up?

-If I could, I would. I think she’s having a Fade dream, and a very powerful one.))

 

“Ava,” Anders said seriously. “You need to wake up right now.”

_“But Ava, what about me?”_ Other-Ava asked from the shadows.

“I…”

Anders took her by the shoulders, bringing her attention back to him. “Ava. Wake. Up.”

Looking up into his eyes, she remembered that his eyes were brown, not blue. Plus, she was pretty sure he didn’t have blue light shining through cracks in his skin. “Anders, why are you glowing?”

He laughed hoarsely. “It’s a long story,” he said. His mouth twisted as if he’d eaten a sour grape, and he shook his head. “One that I’ll probably never get to tell you.”

“Why not?”

“Because, love. You’re going to wake up,” he answered sadly. “And you’re in the Gallows.”

In the Gallows? No she wasn’t. She was at home with her family. But even as she thought it, she knew it wasn’t true. Her brother had joined the Carta. Her father had died of lung illness shortly after her mother had been taken away by Templars.

Just like Ava had been taken.

Memories flashed through her mind, playing out in the swirling colors around her. She saw everything, including the kind face of the Templar when he promised her he’d let her see her mother again.

Anders still knelt in front of her, seemingly oblivious to the visions surrounding them. She turned away from the memories and studied his face. She missed him. A lot. “If I wake up, will I ever see you again?”

His smile was sad when he answered. “I hope so,” he said softly. “Now be a good girl, and wake up.”

The scenes around her started spinning faster, making her dizzy. “I don’t know how,” she cried shakily.

“Just open your eyes.”

Light broke through the darkness, but a single shadow darted out. Cold fingers entwined with hers. Other-Ava smiled just before the darkness faded completely.

_I’ll be with you. You’ll never be alone, I promise._

Ava opened her eyes.

XXX

Anders opened his eyes to darkness split by the few rays of sunlight that slipped through the thick red drapes. He turned his head and watched dust motes floating peacefully through the path of light as he tried to process his dream. He knew it was not simply his own dream. His mind had obviously wandered fully into the Fade while he was sleeping, and somehow he’d stumbled onto Ava. 

It was rare, but not unheard of for mages to meet in their dreams. The memories upon waking were usually vague enough that they wouldn’t realize what happened. In a Circle full of mages it would be revealed through discussion over breakfast, and everyone would get a huge laugh out of it if the two participants turned bright shades of red.

He would have believed that his dream had been a normal one if it weren’t for the clarity of Justice’s memory backing up his own. Ava was definitely being stalked by a demon.

Anders cursed softly. Then when it didn’t relieve enough of the fear and anger inside him, he cursed again at the top of his longs. It still wasn’t enough. He wanted to throw a fireball at something. At someone. Namely Carver. 

He settled for throwing a pillow across the room. It thumped against the wall next to the door, just as the door opened and Hawke poked his tousled head in. Thoughts of Ava immediately faded to the back of his mind at the other man’s unexpected appearance.

Hawke ducked back slightly and then lifted one brow in question as he looked at Anders through the partially opened door. “Are you usually this cranky in the morning or are you mad at me for something?” he asked cautiously.

“Is it morning?” Anders asked as he sat up in the bed, making sure the blanket was pulled up to hide his nudity. Not that Hawke hadn’t seen everything he had to offer, but it felt strange now that Fenris wasn’t somewhere on the other side of the world at the moment. 

Hawke took his civil tone as an invitation and walked into the room. He was wearing only a loose pair of dark red linen trousers, and was barefoot. Anders felt his mouth go dry, and tried not to remember how all that bare skin tasted. It was much easier to forget their time together when they were both fully clothed. Now he was kicking himself for sleeping nude in Hawke’s guest bedroom.

“Late afternoon, actually,” Hawke answered as he walked over and sat on the bottom corner of the bed. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked down at his feet, instead of at Anders. “Are you going back down to the clinic?” he asked quietly.

Something about the way Hawke was acting set off alarms. He was holding himself stiffly, and his normally cheerful demeanor seemed to have disappeared altogether. “Of course,” Anders answered slowly. “But I planned on raiding the kitchen for breakfast first.”

Whiskey brown eyes flicked towards him, and Hawke smiled slightly. “You’re welcome to. I’ll have Bodahn pack something to bring down with you when you go.”

Once again, something about Hawke’s behavior didn’t seem quite right. For dramatic effect, Anders breathed out a long put-upon sigh. “Alright,” he demanded. “What’s wrong?”

He expected Hawke to laugh, and brush off Anders’ concern, but instead the other mage frowned. The worry was now fully visible in his expression. “I think something is wrong with Fenris,” he said quietly. 

Anders felt his breath hitch. Had Fenris overtaxed himself? Was it even possible with that much lyrium embedded in his skin? He had no idea what the consequences were for using the markings that way. Fenris hadn’t said anything, but Anders wouldn’t put it past the elf to push himself past his own endurance in order to help Hawke. 

He tossed the blanket back, no longer self conscious about his nudity. His mind was racing, trying to determine what could be the matter without any facts. “What’s wrong?” he demanded as he began to dress.

“I was hoping you could tell me,” Hawke answered. “Will you come look in on him?”

Belting his coat closed, Anders nodded. He motioned for Hawke to lead the way. They slipped into Hawke’s room and Anders’ eyes went immediately to the huge bed that he’d spent a single night in. Fenris was sprawled across the mattress on his stomach. With the covers kicked off. 

Completely nude.

_Those markings really do go everywhere,_ Anders thought in awe before his healer’s instincts kicked in. It wasn’t very bright in the room, but it was obvious there was something wrong with the elf. His dusky skin was pale, and his breathing was rapid and shallow. Anders crossed to the bed and reached out to touch Fenris’ arm to gauge his temperature. He was worried enough that he forgot touching the elf without permission was a bad idea.

Fenris’ eyes snapped open, and he let out a growl, but didn’t otherwise move.

Anders jerked his hand back and held it where Fenris could see. He felt like he was trying to soothe a feral dog, but he didn’t want a fist in his chest. “I’m sorry,” Anders said quickly. “I was just checking your temperature. You don’t look so good.”

Fenris grumbled something in Arcanum as he shifted into a sitting position. He pulled the blankets over his lap, but not before Anders got a glimpse of more tattoos in interesting places. “I am fine,” Fenris growled in the common tongue.

Ignoring the twinge of appreciation at the sight of sculpted muscles lined with silvery blue, Anders went into full healer mode. He reached out and pressed his palm against Fenris’ forehead, pushing white hair back from angry green eyes that were widely dilated, and bloodshot. The heat radiating from his skin confirmed to Anders that the elf was definitely not fine. “You’re terribly pale, you’re running a fever, and you’re trembling,” he said firmly, ignoring the way Fenris hid his shaking hands under the quilt. “I don’t know how those markings of yours work, but I’d say you probably overdid it. So unless you want me dragging you to the clinic where I can keep an eye on you, you should probably tell me if this is normal.”

Fenris glared at him, but answered grudgingly. “My mast- Danarius did not use my markings for power very often because he preferred to use the power of blood. But when he did, this was the result.”

“How long does it last?” Hawke asked seriously. His face was set in a worried mask, and Anders knew he was upset Fenris had allowed them to use his powers like this.

“It depends on how much I was used,” Fenris answered. His face twisted bitterly on the last word.

Anders fought his curiosity and resisted the urge to find out more. Instead he asked what he knew Hawke would feel was the most important question. “Is there anything we can do to help you?”

“Danarius would often provide me with a stamina draught laced with lyrium,” Fenris answered. “One of Hadriana’s special mixes.”

Hawke snorted. “Why didn’t he just keep the lyrium and take it himself?”

Fenris gave him an irritated look, and then gestured to himself. “A pinch of lyrium? When he could just tap into all of this for more power?”

“Good point,” Hawke replied on a sigh. “What are we going to do? If we had lyrium potions available, we wouldn’t have… well, this wouldn’t have happened.”

Fenris’ mouth tilted up on one side and his eyes were warm as he regarded Hawke. “True,” he said softly. “But I will be fine. I just need rest.”

The dark haired mage climbed up onto the bed next to Fenris and wrapped an arm around him. “You promise you’ll say something if it turns out otherwise?”

Fenris nodded and leaned into Hawke’s shoulder. Anders turned his eyes away from the tender scene. “Well I’m glad you are alright,” he said truthfully. “We were able to save many lives thanks to your help.” Fenris only grunted in response. Typical broody elf, Anders thought grouchily. He almost didn’t offer what he was thinking, but despite his dislike for the elf warrior, it wasn’t possible for him to withhold his help. “Hawke, you can probably find what he needs at the Black Emporium. I need to get back to the clinic, but if you’ll bring me the ingredients I can brew something up for him.”

Hawke perked up at that suggestion, and his grin was so bright it made Anders’ stomach clench in response. “That’s a good idea!”

“There is no need-” Fenris protested, but Hawke had already bounded up from the bed to get dressed. Fenris sighed and gave Anders a sour look. “Thank you, mage,” he grumbled.

Anders walked to the wardrobe and pulled the hidden lever. He had to get out before Hawke bared anymore skin whilst changing clothes. The large piece of furniture swung forward, revealing the hidden entrance. “Don’t mention it,” he called over his shoulder as he pulled the door shut behind him.

He cast a dim light so he wouldn’t take a spill down the stairs. He could feel the strain as he pulled power from the Fade. Even Justice seemed subdued after the amount of power he’d expended over the last few days. A lyrium potion would revive him, but he’d given the last of them to Ava.

His breathing hitched painfully at the thought of the little redhead. He had to stop and lean against the wall for a moment as he was overcome with grief. 

Was she scared? Had they healed the injuries he’d glimpsed as Carver carried her away? 

They’d probably created her phylactery by now. Unless it could be accessed and destroyed, she was tied to the Circle forever. 

Justice stirred in the back of his mind. _There must be something that can be done…_

Anders shook his head and pushed the thought away as roughly as he pushed himself away from the wall. The mage underground had fallen apart almost a year ago, and without help from the inside there was no way he was getting Ava out of there. But Justice still pushed in the back of his mind.

_DO something!_

He continued down through the secret passage with determination. He had patients to take care of right now. He would work on the plight of the mages when he didn’t have more immediate problems.

The hustle and bustle of a full clinic was enough to take his mind off Ava and the Circle for several hours. Many patients who had been watched over by volunteers were well enough now to go home, but as the rubble from the cave-in was cleared more patients were found. Anders realized it would be some time before things really slowed down.

Shortly after the sun went down Hawke showed up. He set a knapsack on Anders’ workbench before rolling up his sleeves and checking on patients. His healing skills were nowhere near as refined as Anders’ but he put out a soothing aura that helped some of the more restless patients relax. It wasn’t very strong, because Hawke was also tired from the last few days, but it was helpful nonetheless. And an extra pair of helping hands was what was most needed at the moment anyway.

Once he had a few minutes, Anders went over to the workbench. He emptied the knapsack and found everything he needed for several kinds of potions, and a rather ragged looking book. Anders flipped through it curiously, finding recipes for potions and poisons he’d never heard of before. Turning a few more pages also revealed antidotes. Here and there spells were listed with the recipes, adding power to normal elixirs. Near the back, Anders stopped on a rather complicated recipe. His eyes widened in shock when he realized what it was for.

“I thought you might like that,” Hawke said from right behind him, startling Anders into slapping the book closed. “You seem to enjoy making all those smelly concoctions and I figured it couldn’t hurt to have a few more recipes.”

_He has no idea what’s in here,_ Anders thought. “You got this from the Emporium?”

Hawke nodded. A call from across the room caught his attention, and he flashed Anders a quick grin as he turned to answer the request. “It’s the least I could do for you since you take such good care of Fenris even though he’s such a horrible patient.”

Anders rolled his eyes. “You’re not much better,” he mumbled. Hawke’s eyes twinkled, and the slight widening of his smile told Anders that his words had not gone unheard. He smiled fondly after the other mage for a moment before he flipped the book back open and read the spidery scrawl. The book was definitely not the kind that would be approved for a Circle library. He couldn’t help but wonder where Xenon had gotten it.

He flipped back to the recipe in the back. Running his fingers over the meticulously printed spell sent a chill down his spine. What he was reading was dangerous.

_I can use this_ , he thought eagerly. _The question is, how?_ Ideas chased each other through his mind. All of them were dangerous and he wasn’t sure he wanted to be in control of that much chaos. But he needed to do more than what he had been doing.

_Something must be done. Something in this city must give._

Anders wasn’t sure if the thought was purely his own.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't expect to update this very quickly like I did with my last story. I have this grand idea, but it will be different from anything I've written before even outside of fanfiction, so we'll see how it goes :)


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